


Ghost Strings

by CharlieMcarthy



Series: The (K)night Guard [3]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: and the marionette does his best but its not enough, and the one where jeremy keeps his promise, everything ends here, or the one where mike tries his best, the final chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 113,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMcarthy/pseuds/CharlieMcarthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after London Bridge. The pizzeria is under suspicion after the fire that demolished Fazbear's Fright. Between a nosy detective and an incompetent day guard, Mike's starting to wonder if the restaurant can survive until the New Year. To make matters worse, age is starting to take its toll on the Marionette, and that might be the one thing Schmidt won't be able to fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changing of the Guard

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, this story will be much longer, and have 3 Acts with an average of 7 chapters, give or take. Why? Because I fucking hate myself, that’s why…and because I really enjoy working on the gang and want to give them the best final story I can. Act 1 will focus on Danny and introduce the investigator toward the end. Act II, well…I won’t spoil anything else. 
> 
> ALSO, this is a little late but: If you haven’t read Devil’s Spine and London Bridge in that order, I highly recommend them. Of course, LD was released before DS, so it’s really up to you. And if you HAVE read them, then hi there! Glad you make it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Enter: The young Hero   
> *Danny meets Mike and the Marionette   
> *Balloons that happen to be Blue

**ACT I**  
  
Chapter 1. Changing of the Guard

“They say he’s, like, seven feet tall and can crush a piece of metal with his _hand_.”

“And got like, half an eye. Or one glass eye, I’m not sure.”

“They don’t say that.” Scoffed the first kid.

“Yes they do!” defended the second one.

“Who!? Who do you know that says that?”

“Guys!!” A third voice, more panicked and aggravated than the others, interrupted them. “Can we _please_ drop the subject? I’m nervous enough as it is applying for this job.”

“Awright Danny, jeez, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” There was a pause, each teen looking at the darkened restaurant. “So…you gonna go in? The ad said to come during after hours.”

“Well, they closed at eight but I know the clean-up crews still here.” Danny, the boy who was starting to regret his life choices, fiddled nervously with the newspaper ad. ‘ _Day guard wanted at local pizzeria for weekends.’_ it said. _‘No previous experience necessary, please come after closing. Ask for Mike.’_

Mike. The night guard and manager of Freddy Fazbear’s pizzeria. The rumor at Mulrone High was that the restaurant had been saved by this giant angry guy who could make the animatronics do what he wanted. They said he walked in and ripped off that pirate thing’s jaw and put it back on when it snapped at it. They said he stuffed the creepy bear into a suit instead of the other way around, and they said he was even scarier than the robots were.

‘They,’ being the local populace at Mulrone High, most notably the lunch table of Danny’s regular crowd of friends. Whether or not any of them had even been to Freddy’s in the last four months was a mystery to him, but whatever. Danny wasn’t really one for gossip, and half those things sound fake as all get out but…he still couldn’t help but feel scared shitless. Maybe it was the ‘come after closing’ or the general air of the gloomy pizzeria. The restaurant was sitting under a yellow lamp post in the early winter night, and not for the first time, Danny regretted this.

“Sucks your mom’s making you get a job, man.” Said Carl, one of this buddies who had curly red hair and a trust fund.

“Yeah, it was nice knowing you.” Said the other. That was Sam, who had zits all over his face but a license and access to his mom’s car. “They might stuff you into a suit when the guard’s not looking.”

“Or the _guard_ might—“

“Knock it off, guys!” Danny whined. Just to get away from these knuckleheads, he pushed himself out of the backseat of Carl’s mom’s car and grabbed his hoodie.

“Just come get me when I tell you too, awright?” He asked, because these two weren’t the most reliable. Danny was prepared to walk the two miles home if need be, but he’d rather not this late at night.

“Sure thing man.” Sam promised as he started the engine.

“Hey, good luck, really.” Carl stressed, sensing his friend’s obvious discomfort.

Danny nodded, but felt too sick to speak. By the time he got to the front door, he could see his breath and his nose felt numb. A sign said ‘Sorry, We’re Closed, but Tomorrow is Another Day!’ with a cheerful painting of the brown bear waving from behind the glass. Danny was too busy staring at the sign to notice someone coming to the door and opening it.

He looked up, and nearly wet himself.

“What can I do for you, son?” There stood the titular character of the pizzeria, old Freddy Fazbear himself. Horrifyingly, he was missing his entire left arm.

“I-I-I—ad….news…answer…” Danny held up the newspaper add, staring at the hanging wires.

“Oh, pardon me being undressed—I was just getting a tune up and noticed a car’s lights. You come on in—you’re here for the ad in the paper?” Freddy asked as Danny stumbled in, looking briefly over his shoulder to see if his friends were still there. Maybe he could get in the car and just tell Sam to floor it and—no, they were gone. Traitors.

Danny tried not to shake as he walked further into the dining hall. He was relieved to see other people here—real human, nonrobotic people—and quickly made eye contact with at least four of the cleaners to make sure they knew he was here. Just in case…

“A bit young to be lookin fer a job, ain’tcha? You look ya should still be in school!” Freddy commented amiably as he walked toward a door across the room.

“It—it’s for the weekends. I don’t have school then.” Danny managed, feeling like he was about to swallow his own tongue. Finally, he kicked a neuron in gear. “C-can I talk to Mike?!” it came out as a squeak. Freddy raised an eyebrow at the noise.

“Was just going to get him, but—here, I need my arm before I can do anything else.” Freddy stopped before the door and turned toward the stage. “You take this door, see, take this door, go straight and make a right. Then ya go straight, past the kitchen. Next door’ll be on your left. Now, if ya hit a dead end ya’s gone too far.”

“D-dead end?”

“Ah, ya can’t get thar from here.” Freddy said, his country tone really selling his statement. It was almost comical.

“Course, that’s only if Mike even be in the guard’s room.” Freddy said, glancing at the ceiling thought. Danny felt his stomach crumble at the possibility.

“A-and if he’s not?” Another squeak. Puberty wasn’t being fair to this boy.

“Oh, then he’s prolly with the puppet, ya aint never see those two apart.” Freddy informed.

Danny wondered the hell ‘the puppet’ was, and hoped to God it wasn’t some torture device.

“Okay, so, uhm—just…through this door?” Danny pointed, begging his finger to stop shaking.

“Yep.” Freddy nodded, and Danny headed through before the bear could say anything else.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay.” Danny whispered to himself, as he was apt to do when his anxiety was getting too high. “It’s allll good, we’re fine. Totally fine—“

“Hello!”

Danny screamed, turned around to see what had made that noise and saw a squat robotic boy staring up at him. It walked—no, it rocked—toward him, wide smile falling into a confused line when he didn’t respond.

“Hi?” It said, getting nearer as it reached behind its back to pull out something.

“Ahhhh!” screamed Danny, convinced it was a knife and he was about to be stabbed to death right here in the hall. Without thinking he took off at a dead sprint, and ran through the first door he found.

Heat washed over him, and he skidded to a halt as a giant yellow chicken turned around holding a large cleaving knife, bigger than his hand.

“Hi! You’re new, but you’re just in time! Let’s eat!” a girl voice chirped cheerfully at him, knife raised.

“Let’s eat _what_!?” shrieked Danny, who scrambled out of the kitchen fast as his legs could carry him. His gym teacher would have been so proud at the record he was making as he careened down the opposite way that boy animatronic was.

Danny was too busy looking over his shoulder to realize he had come to the end of the hall, the dead end, as it were.

When he’d first exited the kitchen, though in his panicked state he probably didn’t notice, there had been nothing but bathrooms way before the end of the hall. There were some posters tacked up on the far wall, but that was it. But some things in the pizzeria simply didn’t need to use doors to move, as ridiculous as that sounded, it was true.

When Danny turned to see where he was going, all he could make out was blue, black, then a brief flash of gold and he ran into what felt like a wall. The flash died as quick as it had come.

“Arrgh!!” went Danny,

“Gyaah!!” went the wall.

 _‘Well._ ’ Said another voice, light and monotone.

It took Danny a solid two minutes to get the lost breath he’d had knocked out of him.

 _‘Did you mean to do that?’_ The tone was uncertain, and not aimed at him apparently, because someone else answered.

“Uh…no? I think—we gotta work on our timing.” Came a surprised voice, it sounded like a young guy. “He needs to stop coming out whenever he thinks I’m in danger.”

 _‘Well, you can’t blame him. You seem to attract it like a magnet.’_ Chastised monotone guy.

 _“_ Oh, I get into a car accident _one time_ and am late for work—and suddenly I’m a trouble magnet. Is that it?”

 _‘Yes. I’m glad you understand.’_ Said the monotone voice actually sounded blithe.

Danny groaned, trying to let them know he was still down here. And mostly conscious.

“Whoa whoa! Hey, take it easy—Marion, gimme him hand here, wouldja?”

 _‘Of course, Night Guard._ ’ Said a voice from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Before Danny could react, spindly fingers curled around the back of his shirt and hoisted him gently up into the air. He trembled and waited to be murdered, but only found himself face to face with a young man with shaggy brown hair and wide blue eyes. Over his shoulder was a floating puppet thing, its long arm impossibly stretched almost five feet out as it held Danny in place as if he was a kitten and not almost a full grown adult.

“You okay?” The man asked nicely, and Danny just whimpered, staring at the creepy puppet by the man’s shoulder.

“Aw, set him down Mari. The kid’s shaking like a leaf.”

 _‘He does look rather distressed.’_ The puppet was speaking, but its painted mouth did not move. Danny was set down on his own two feet, and was proud to say he wobbled only a little.

“He _did_ just run into me head on.” Despite the gangly guy’s average frame and terrible posture, he looked none the worse for wear. It was like Danny hadn’t even hurt him at all from colliding with him dead on.

_‘Yes, seeing you with your hair like that would scare anyone.’_

“Wow.” But Mike was laughing. “Freddy said there was a kid here looking for the day guard job on weekends. Uh, you got lost, huh?”

Danny nodded, still not trusting his voice.

“Well, they told ya to look for Mike, and ya found me.” Mike held his arms out. “Good job! First impressions are very important.”

 _‘He ran into you.’_ The puppet thing stated with a hint of distaste, looking at Danny as he was something the puppet had found on the bottom of its pointy little foot. At this point, Danny fully expected to be murdered.

“Same difference!” said Mike cheerfully.

 _‘That statement is an oxymoron.’_ The puppet’s attention was taken off Danny, and now it stared at Mike.

“So’s a puppet who doesn’t need strings to move.” Mike said, giving Danny a grin he hastily tried to return. It must have worked, because Mike motioned for Danny to follow him.

The puppet gave a rather theatrical sigh as it followed Mike, inches from his shoulder. _‘When did my dear night Guard become so impolite?’_

“Oh my god, the most dramatic. Drama-marionie, we oughta call you.” Mike shot back as they entered the only door on their left. Danny entered a small, cramped room with more height than width. He took note of the cot in the back, the lack of computers, a single phone and, for some strange reason, two exits on either side of the room.

The Marionette gave a dismissive noise and lowered into a large white box taking up most of Mike’s desk. Danny wondered briefly if he was expected to work alongside this puppet robot, and immediately regretted every life choice that lead up to this moment.

Suddenly it pulled out a very old GameBoy and turned it on. The first few notes of Pokemon Crystal were heard, and Danny tired not to stare.

“Don’t mind him.” Mike said, and Danny wondered if there was anything that bothered this guy.

“You’re…you’re Mike? Mike Schmidt—the night guard?”

“Technically head manager, night guard and day guard, but. Uh. Yeah. Those first two titles are questionable at best, and I really just prefer my title being the night guard. You?”

“Uh, Danny. Okay…”

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked as he sat on the cot. “Oh, take a seat, yeah?”

“I’d just…I thought, thought you’d be…” Danny trailed off lamely as he settled in the chair. He realized he had his back to the creepy robot and quickly wheeled to the side.

“Taller?” Mike grinned. “I get that a lot.”

Danny coughed, still faintly out of breath.

“Want something to eat or drink?” Mike shot him a worried look Danny wasn’t sure he bought. “You look a little pale.”

Danny went green at the mention of eating, but managed a quiet “I’m good, thanks.”

“If you’re sure…” Mike was clearly leaving an opening for him, but Danny, distinctly aware of the puppet playing a child’s handheld game behind him, said nothing. “Well, let’s start with the basics.”

“It’d be from ten am to seven pm. Uh, you can bring lunch or pick something up here—Chica makes a great pizza and she’s working on learning mac’n cheese right now.”

“O-oh.” That explained the knife wielding robot in the kitchen. This only sort of comforted Danny.

“I’ll show up around three normally, but the gang will be able to help with any problems, should they arise. I’ll be honest, you look a little young—not that I can talk but. How old are you, Danny?”

“S-sixteen, sir.”

“Well, that’s legal. You still in school?”

“Yessir.”

“Mike, Danny, not sir.” Mike laughed, and Danny wondered how anyone could mistake him for a seven foot tall bear of a man who beat up animatronics. He looked like he couldn’t win against a flower.

“I’m going to be honest, I’ll have to pay you under the table. I figured—oh, that’s okay? Great. You can use this tablet here to walk around the restaurant and still be able to see rooms you aren’t in. Let’s see, general rules, no smoking, no drinking, even on your break. I know, obvious right? But stuff I gotta say. And, uh—oh man I always forget this part…”

The puppet tsked. “ _Night guard, I’m surprised at you.”_

“Yeah, where did I leave that thing I wrote down—“ A black arm stretched over Danny’s right side. He squeaked, but all it did was elongate across the room and hold out a little worn notebook for Mike to take. The night guard perked up.

“Oh! Thanks Mari.” Mike cleared his throat. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. …Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced.”

At Danny’s wide eyed stare, Mike stopped. “Look, I know that sounds bad—and it _was_ but all that stuffs in the past. You can trust those guys completely, okay? I know every job says this bit, but working here means you really _are_ family.”

“So…that all sound okay? Do you have any questions for me?” Mike asked.

“N…no.” Danny managed. Only about a hundred thousand, but the real question was did he have the strength to ask them?

“Okay, well, I do need you to fill out some information—There, Mari’s got you covered.” Danny was handed a blank sheet that needed to be filled out with the usual. Name, address, contact numbers. “He’ll take it when you’re done.” To Danny’s horror, Mike was standing up.

“Y-you’re leaving?” He would be alone with ‘Mary’ or whatever it was called?

“Oh—well, I gotta get back to work. Freddy kinda needs his arm back on.” Mike laughed, missing Danny’s surprised look he did that too. “When you’re done, you can either go home or I can give you a walk through tonight or—you look like you want to go home.” Mike’s smile was understanding.

“No problem, just finish that and BB here will show you out.”

“Hello?” The same squat robot from before wandered in at the sound of its name, turning a wide smile to Mike, and then swiveling its head to Danny. It was holding a blue balloon, and held it out to him.

“Hi!”

“Heh, you had some leftovers, did ya BB?”

The boy giggled and held the balloon more, prompting Danny to take it. “…hello?”

“It’s okay—he says he’s sorry for scaring you, and he thought you’d like this.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Blue was his favorite color, but instead of being awed and in wonder he was just a little creeped out. He also wondered how Mike could get a whole sentence from a single word. The same word, come to think of it.

Mike shook his hand once more, thanked him for applying, and told him he’d see him here tomorrow at ten sharp.

“…why is he going to meet me on Saturday if I’m the guard?” Danny asked the puppet, not really expecting a response.

_‘Would you rather learn the layout of the restaurant alone, on a busy Saturday?’_

Danny flushed at the critical look and, finding a pencil on the desk, began scribbling his answers in.

He had just finished signing his name, under the same statement Mike had read him, when he wondered how he was going to talk to the puppet again. He didn’t need to worry it seemed, because without a word the paper was tugged by spindly fingers and pulled into the box.

Danny tried to ignore how when he stood up, he could not see anything in the box aside from the puppet’s folded body. It was empty, despite at least two things he had seen being pulled into it.

“Uhm, so…I can leave now?” The teen asked slowly.

 _‘You could have left at any time.’_ The puppet points out, sounding amused. It does not look up from its video game. _‘Rather interesting you didn’t, Day Guard. Despite such obvious fear of this place.’_

“I, I was just nervous.” Danny tried to sound convincing. That was true; it just wasn’t the _whole_ story.

_‘I’m sure.’_

Danny turned to go; deciding he did _not_ like that knowing tone the puppet was capable of using. So far, he liked Mike, who he thought he would be scared of, and he was scared of the puppet, who he didn’t even know existed but wish he had ahead of time.

“So, I just follow you?” He asked, staring down at the animatronic who had given him a balloon.

“Hello!” The creepy thing nodded, despite only being able to say ‘hello.’ Danny followed, eager to get out of this place and into the cool night. Nothing and no one was in the dining room, or even the hall. He _thought_ he heard metal clanging when they passed a hallway, or the faint notes of a guitar behind a door labeled ‘Parts and Services’ but he ignored them and stuck with BB. He was showed the door and decided to wait outside. He felt a little ridiculous holding the balloon while texting Sam to get the hell back here, and when he was sure no one was looking he let the balloon go.

It drifted up, up into the night, blotting out the stars against the pitch black sky. His breath floated before his face, and he tried to let the cold numb him from his previous fear and worry. He was probably insane for getting this job after everything that had happened to his family, but he had to know.

He needed answers.

16 year old Danny Fitzgerald stood in the door way, waiting to see the lights of his friend’s car.


	2. We Can Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Bambi needs Thumper's help  
> *In which the Marionette admits its age  
> *Mike sleeps on the job

**Act I**  
  
_Chapter 2. We Can Do It_

Some of the things you could learn as a security guard were surprising.

For example, children were often sticky. Parents were willing to shell out the cash if it meant a few hours they could sit by themselves in peace and quiet, but only half of them were copacetic in terms of letting giant robots do the babysitting. They expected a human walking around to babysit the animatronics, which was about a boring a job as it sounded.

But the gang was so happy to be on Free Roam during the day, and it wasn’t like you _had_ to abandon your child in the game area. Which was incidentally right next to the dining room, with the stage at the far end. Because of that, parents took the middle road, and sat at the booths with their fellow parent-friends to keep an eye on their kids. Just in case, you know.

Mike Schmidt was half buried in the open back of Pizza Party! (An arcade game where you helped an 8bit Chica make pizzas while keeping a hungry Foxy at bay) when _it_ happened.

He heard a terrific crash and a woman’s scream, followed by muffled apologies with an air of frantic worry. The guard sat up, dropping his screw driver back in his tool box and clambering out of the small space the arcade game provided. He had only just finished the job, because while the arcade games were vintage, vintage didn’t always mean good. Mostly, it meant ‘liable to break down once or twice a day, and definitely always when the place was expecting a really big party.’ They _still_ didn’t have a working mechanic, and tech only worked on the Stage after hours on Sundays (presumably this was because the gang would have been the most harmless during off Roam hours, back in the day.) but it was no longer back in the day, so Mike was a tad frustrated he couldn’t find anyone willing to work on the other problems around here. If this kept up, he was going to teach BB to use a screwdriver and just hope for the best.

But that scream and crash needed his attention right now, the other stuff would have to wait. There hadn’t been anything close to another incident like Arthur’s or anyone else’s, but Marionette had warned him to not to let his guard down. (Mike had sniggered at the joke and Marion had rolled his eyes and gone back to the GameBoy.) Pushing uselessly at the massive arcade machine, Mike was reminded that what little muscle he had built up…wasn’t really a lot in the grand scheme of arcade games. He knew before trying there was no way he had the physical strength to get this thing back in place beside Balloon Boy’s Blast.

“Uh—“ He spotted a pair of passing purple ears. “Bon! Put this back in place for me would you? I’m gonna go see what just happened.”

“Oh, _I_ know what happened.” Said Bonnie in a superior tone. He effortlessly pushed the ancient arcade game back into place, and nodded his head toward the kitchen doors. “Chica told me a second ago. That new kid you hired for a guard happened. He’s a total klutz! What were you thinking?”

Mike glared. “I was thinking I would have a chance for some sleep sometime this week.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Bonnie teased cheerfully, finishing wedging the game into place and stepping back. Mike patted the bunny’s upper arm as he passed, which was as high as he could reach without stretching.

“Thanks, Thumper.”

“Anytime, _Bambi_.” There really wasn’t anything wrong with the nickname; it was just embarrassing how the rest of the gang totally agreed with Bonnie on certain characteristics the young man shared with the title character of the movie. Really, he shouldn’t have let them watch Disney movies at night.

Mike desperately hoped the tips of his ears weren’t turning pink, and he hurried through the swinging doors.

The sight that greeted him in the kitchen was two tipped cups short of a train-wreck. But it was getting there, and as Mike halted in surprise—and before a swinging skillet could collide with the side of his head—he stared down at what, according to Bonnie, was the epicenter of the mess.

“Erh…” Where to begin? Perhaps the obvious. That was safest. Usually. “You alright, Danny?” He asked slowly, unsure up to this point. The kid looked like a mess.

“…f-fine sir.”

Judging from the wide-eyed, shaking limbs—and half a torso covered in what appeared to be macaroni and cheese and pizza sauce with, onions, maybe?—Mike surmised Danny wasn’t going to be of any real help until he’d gotten off the floor and out from under those plates and food. Mike turned to the nearest person; a waitress named Bea, and asked.

“What happened here?”

Bea, a young girl in a sensible braid, snapped to attention. She was a nice, competent waitress, according to Freddy, who kept an eye on all employees that were on the floor with him as part of his regular programming. Bea was working here during the start of her freshman year. Most college kids were a soft spot for Mike, who provided flexible hours best he could for those in dire need of money for their education. If you showed your college ID, you could take home a second slice of pizza courtesy of management, which was only Mike Schmidt these days. He remembered plenty of nights of going to bed on an empty stomach, and it hurt to think of these kids doing the same.

“It was an accident sir, I, I think.” Bea looked rather nervous having to speak to the manager all by herself, but it wasn’t like Danny was going to pitch in any time soon. “I was coming through with the order, and _he_ was coming in, and we just…”

“Collided?” Mike took a stab, eyeing the sliding sauce heading south on the drawers. At least it didn’t have very far to go, unlike the noodles on the wall by his head. They got some good air time, to be honest. Bea nodded so much Mike feared her head might tip off. “How fast were you going, the hundred yard sprint?” This he asked Danny, because logically Bea wouldn’t be the one moving at the speed of sound if she were carrying a full tray of food. Danny blushed, turning a shade dangerously close to the pizza sauce covering his face already. It looked like he’d gotten into a food fight with an entire table. Speaking of which…

His mind shifted rapidly between thoughts, pulling up a plan.

“Which table was it? 29? Okay. I’ll go tell them, you go see about getting a new order out. Lickety-split.” He instructed, and a blushing Bea hurried back to the kitchen line where the cooks were hiding and working. Mike shook his head and walked over to Danny, who was trying his level best at getting up on the slippery floor.

“C’mon.” He hummed, catching a hand and steadying him. “Wow, look at your uniform…”

“I’m really sorry—“

“Hey, it was an accident. No one got hurt. But uh, between you and me—“ Because the kid looked infinitely better now that the limelight had been taken off him. Once Mike arrived, everyone went back to work as if to appear as diligent as possible. “Why were you running like that? Something happen?”

“I…no.” said Danny, and a little voice in the back of Mike’s head (who was more reliable than you might think) rumbled otherwise. Mike made no move to show he’d heard his… _Other Side_ …speaking, but he agreed. Something was fishy, and it wasn’t the anchovies.

“If you’re sure.” Mike said, giving him one last chance. If Danny saw it, he didn’t take it.

“Am I fired?” Is what he asked, looking queasy. Mike blinked, and dropped the kid’s arm in shock.

“What? Of course not—it’s only your first day.”

“My first day and I made this huge mess.” The teen reminded glumly, trying to pick up what he could. Mike bent down and began to help before the staff had to.

“Look, like I said, you didn’t do it on purpose. Just be more careful, yeah?” He looked around, saw Bea handing a mop out to him—still blushing—and Mile smiled and took it from her with thanks. “Here, look, I’ll clean up this mess. You go and get another shirt to wear. That can’t be comfortable.” Never mind it was unprofessional as hell, and Freddy would have a conniption if he saw anyone trying to work in the mess Danny was currently standing in. Mike still remembered the day he tried to do a shift with a grease stain on his blue work shirt.

“I didn’t see any more in the—” Mike waved him off, nodding.

“Oh, no. I know we’re out. You’ll have to go to Mari for a new one. Uh, one look at your shirt and he’ll understand.”

“Mari…that puppet thing?”

“Yup. Try not to…say that to his face though. He’s a little sensitive.” Mike laughed fondly, pushing some broken shards of plates into a dust pan Bea was holding.

“R-right.” Danny headed off, looking like he’d been sent to the gallows instead of one of Mike’s dearest friends. As far as Mike knew, Marionette had done anything to the kid, so he wasn’t sure where all the apprehension was coming from. That aside, Mike found out quickly how the staff was split. If you didn’t mind the bots, you were freaked out by Marion. And vice versa. Nobody really seemed to mind BalloonBoy, which was interesting. Though BB was the odd bot out visually, the boy-animatronic seemed walk the line and get along with everybody.

Then again, the Marionette _could_ be a little unnerving, even on a good day. Especially when Mike caught him staring at parents. Nothing had ever happened, but Mike always had to the instinct to tack a ‘not yes, nothing had happened’ on to the end of his own wishful thinking. Pushing those thoughts away, Mike went back to the task at hand, and the cause of the task at hand. Afraid of not, Danny would have to get over it, since the Day Guard had to be everywhere.

Going back to the clean up, Mike finished up and followed Danny out into the brightly light hall. The kid was already several steps ahead of him. Mike did not call out to him. His hands found their way to rest on his hips, lips pulling into a small frown as he thought back to when he had asked Danny’s reason for sprinting through the kitchen doors like a house afire.

 _‘Liar.’_ Rumbled a deep growl again, something that might belong to a predator. It was a grumbling voice in-between his ears, a short quick statement filled with surprising hostility. It didn’t belong to Mike. It was too old. Too authoritative.

“Yeah. I get that feeling too.” Mike murmured to himself, watching Danny head toward the Prize Counter.

After a moment’s hesitation, the Night Guard turned and headed back into the dining hall to see if anything else had broken in his absence.

**oOoOoOo**

This was the _worst_ day of his life.

And telling himself over and over that he needed to keep this stupid job, no matter what, really only served to tick him off more. He stood in the doorway to the Prize Room, clutching his arm with his other hand and gripping it so tightly he was going to have bruises later.

The Marionette did not look at him until it had finished serving the last child. Danny was struck with the vague thought that, were he with Mike, he wouldn’t have to wait so long.

This left a bitter taste in the back of the teen’s throat.

 _‘Yes, Day Guard. How may I help you?’_ It had all the personality of a piece of Christmas fruit cake that had been left to sit until well after New Year’s. Danny swallowed and edged into the room. He dutifully ignored Balloon Boy’s chipper “Hello!”

Danny stared at the puppet.

“I’m…I’m covered in pizza sauce” He said, tone incredulous. “Mister Schmidt told me to ask you for a spare uniform?”

The Marionette tsked, leaning forward. _“So you are. My optics are not what they used to be. Do come in.”_ Danny moved in at the Marionette’s beckoning, spindly finger.

_“Let me see. Turn around for me….yes, there we go.”_

Danny finished turning a complete 180 in time to see the puppet begin digging about its box. From where Danny stood by the low counter (made specifically for the present box it seemed) the box was empty. Granted, Danny couldn’t _see_ the entirety of the bottom. And what space he couldn’t see certainly didn’t have room for a full set of clothes. And yet, that’s exactly what Marionette pulled out after a moment. Folded, pressed and looking like they came with no previous owners.

 _“…might I suggest changing in the bathrooms.”_ The Marionette said when Danny stood agape and didn’t take the clothes.

The teen jerked to life as if stung and grabbed the uniform, his face burning at the Marionette’s critical stare. Danny had wondered on the day he applied, if the Marionette wasn’t happy about him getting this job.

Now he knew was on to something. The puppet _didn’t_ like this. Why?

“Right, erh. Right. Sorry, I just…how do you…how do you do that?”

 _“I am a very good Marionette.”_ It said simply, as if this explained all.

“It’s just, the box was—“ Danny stopped, because the Marionette had raised a thin hand to silence him. His jaw snapped shut before he realized he was doing so, cutting off his words.

“ _Be warned, Day Guard. There are some doors that should never be opened.”_

“Wh…what?” Danny said numbly.

 _“There are doors that hold secrets which must never be known_.” And like that, the conversation appeared to be over. The Marionette turned to a child who had come into the room, knocking on the door timidly and clutching a string of tickets. Though its painted face didn’t change, it seemed happier now that it was addressing a child. Well then. It was like Danny wasn’t even the room anymore.

Danny left them handing out prizes and balloons in the Prize Room, and headed back to the Dining room to complete his shift, deep in thought.

**oOoOoOo**

Mike sighed, shifting so he was leaning against Freddy a little more. He relaxed for the first time that day, and rubbed his face wearily as he and the bear sat on the stage.

“How did we do?” He called out tiredly. Mike turned his attention to Chica, who was pulling the money from the till up by the entrance.

“Not awful.” She said, and Mike groaned. “No, I mean it! We’ve certainly done worse. At this rate, I think we can expect a steady rise by next month.”

“If only we _had_ a next month.” Mike muttered.

“Now, son.” Freddy went, glancing down at the slouch of limbs that was their night guard and manager, and occasional technician. Mike grumbled and tilted his head to give Freddy a baleful look.

“It’s just…It’s _depressing_! We’re seeing progress, sure. But nowhere near close enough to justify pushing the closing date.” Mike complained, throwing his hands up. They dropped back down with a soft noise on his legs. He flopped back against Freddy’s much bigger and warmer body in defeat. The bear patted his far shoulder with a huge paw comfortingly.

“We still have December.” Bonnie pointed out as he and Foxy straightened chairs and tables. Foxy wasn’t allowed to handle the table clothes—his hook ripped most of them, and Marionette was never quite happy to have to conjure more.

“Bon’s right, Mike.” Chica said, almost done counting the money. The robots were great at numbers, since they were basically giant walking computers. “We can do it!”

“Yeah, I hope so too Chica.” Mike gave in, wondering if he felt this way out of cranky exhaustion, or something else. He seemed to be the only realistic of the group at the moment, aside from Freddy, who was uncharacteristically quiet about this whole situation.

“I _know_ so.” The bird smiled at him, and Mike returned it. It didn’t quite reach his tired eyes, but Chica didn’t take it personally.

“I still don’t see why the Black Devil can’t just fix all this.” Foxy grumbled under his breath, regarding the lack of money.

“It doesn’t work that way, Foxy. You know that, buddy.” Mike hummed in amusement. His eyes were closed for good now. He was half asleep from listening to Freddy’s inner workings chug and thrum along.

“Aye. But I’m just sayin’ lad, maybe if we…” The Fox trailed off when Freddy put a raised paw to his mouth and gestured to the now slumped guard, buried in his shoulder. Mike was asleep, and snoring to prove it.

Chica paused to coo at how cute he was, and Bonnie rolled his eyes at her.

“He’s had a hard day.” Freddy commented, watching the tired young man with a doting expression.

“Hard day?” Bonnie chimed in, though his voice was lowered to. “How about hard year. He can’t drive home like this.” The bunny pointed out.

“Yup.” Freddy agreed. Slowly and surely, he gathered the skinny guy up and carried him back to the office. The bear had only just set Mike on the cot when he noticed the present box was suddenly sitting on the desk. Freddy finished his task at hand, satisfied only when Michael was under the blanket and guaranteed some rest for once. The present box opened after a moment, the Marionette’s shoulders lower than usual as it rose from the depths, and its head hung. After a heavy sigh, the Marionette seemed to notice it was not alone in the room. Well, Mike was expected, but Freddy was not.

“…Ya’lright there, puppet?” Fazbear asked quietly, a little worried and unsure.

 _‘Fine, fine Freddy.’_ Mari folded its arms and leaned on its box. _‘I have been feeling my age, to put it lightly._

“Happens to us all, e’ry once in ‘o while.” Freddy agreed. “Get the lad to give ya a tune-up, ya reckon?”

_“Ah, if it only it were that simple.”_

“…oh?” Well, no he really was worried. He walked over to the puppet, so he could speak to him and not risk waking the night guard. “Not yer—not yer kid, is it?” He asked worriedly.

 _“Arthur is fine.”_ The puppet commented vacantly as it watched Mike sleep. The painted smile seemed genuine; at least, the white pin pricks of light that served as the puppet’s eyes seemed to soften a fraction.

Did Michael truly know what he meant to him? To all of them? Hard to say.

But the night guard was certainly sharp.

“…you ever have a second guess about him?” Freddy suddenly asked.

 _“Hmm?”_ The puppet was broken from its thoughts and turned to look up at the titular character of the restaurant. _“You mean, in choosing him to house--? Yes. Why, sometimes. Mostly when he’s about to do something that might cause him harm, but ultimately save someone else. I get a bit frustrated then, such a self-sacrificing nature he is cursed with.”_

“Ah.” Freddy nodded. “But it ain’t such a vice to him. Or the people whose hide he be saving.”

 _“It is a dangerous, contemptuous trait.”_ The Marionette’s frustrated faded as he went on _. “And yet, without it? I believe that giving Gold to him might not have worked in the way it did.”_

“I reckon.” Freddy agreed in his easy going drawl.

They watched over Mike a moment longer, taking solace in the way he breathed. Having him alive, safe and sound and with them was monumental for their moods. Despite the slowly dwindling business, the slow death the restaurant was suffering from, everything seemed alright as long as they had Mike. He always came up with a plan. They expected it to be no different from usual.

The animatronics believed Mike could save the restaurant, the how, why or when didn’t matter. They simply _believed_.

Freddy wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, but he turned and picked up Mike’s tablet. The system hadn’t been upgraded, but new cameras had been added. Both exits, front and back, and the kitchen had been repaired, as well as one in the Prize Room. Mike had installed them himself during the slow month of September, when most kids were going back to school. Tapping through the screens, Freddy cast a mildly focused look as he swept through an aerial view of his beloved restaurant. Bonnie and Chica were in the kitchen now, arguing about…something. Foxy was in his newly painted Cove, organizing his prop treasure chests proudly. Balloon Boy was fitting himself with tomorrow’s helium tank, and there was a figure hunched over the knob of the back door.

Wait.

“Hold on a sec…” Freddy rumbled, tapping the exit door quickly to get it back.

There _was_ a figure there!

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Mari, despite any tiredness, perked up the instant Freddy’s demeanor went from bored to alert.

“See fer yourself.” The bear held the tablet out. Marionette steadied it with his hand, thumb passing over the black, hoodie wearing figure as the stranger looked both ways and went back to leaning over the door jamb. Their whole body language was guilty.

Marionette and Freddy shared a single, quiet look. All softness had bled from the bear now, as that deadly protectiveness took over. The Marionette’s gaze echoed it, especially with the Night Guard out of commission not three feet away.

Someone was breaking into the pizzeria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re in the process of packing and readying the house to sell it. So, as you can imagine, I can hardly REACH my laptop let alone sit down and write the chapters. Still, moving right along. 
> 
> Poor Danny. It used to be poor Mike, but there’s no excuse for him now. He’s staying of his own volition at this point, so really if anything happens to him it will be his fault. And something will happen to him, mark my words~! Also, where did line breaks go?


	3. There's a Stranger In Us all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Freddy contemplates immortality  
> *All the better to grin at you with  
> *Nightmaronnie appears, unwelcomed  
> *Programming saves the intruder

**ACT I**

**  
** _Chapter 3. There’s a Stranger in Us All_

“Reckon we oughta wake him?” was Freddy’s first question, jerking his head at Mike, who was still sound asleep and snoring to prove it. One of his skinny arms dangled over the side of the small cot, and he mumbled on an exhale something about pizza and onions. Freddy’s look softened briefly. That boy. He turned back to the puppet, who was in a less docile mood.

 _“Negative.”_ The Marionette was pulling itself from its box, strings hanging more limply than usual. Freddy knew better than to steady his old friend, as that would only serve to piss the prideful entity off more. “ _Let him get rest, he needs it. I alone can deal with this intruder.”_

“I better tell the others.” Freddy said, and the puppet nodded.

 _“Allow me to be the first to greet out guest, if you please.” _One final glance at Mike, who probably couldn’t have summoned Golden in his current state, he would be too out of it. That and the human would probably have some sensible, human way of going about this so that no one got hurt. The puppet almost scoffed to itself out loud, which Fazbear noticed and tipped his head back, metal sliding on metal.

“Ahh, someone’s in a right wicked mood.” The bear stroked its chin, “Been a while since we played _this_ game, eh?”

 _“Far too long, my less kinder side thinks.”_ The puppet admitted, at Freddy’s look he went on. _“Michael is the sentimentalist. I have never been able to master it, myself.”_

“Of course.” The bear rumbled softly, wisely not going any farther on that little matter. “Shall we?”

 _“Give me a minute. Yes_.” In the time it took for Freddy to cross over the threshold of the security room, the Marionette vanished from sight, the noise as quiet as a mouse’s cough.

Freddy wondered to himself, not for the first time, if immortality was _really_ all it was cracked up to be, because the Marionette no longer seemed to be taking it well. Not only that, but something seemed to have changed between him and Michael, and he couldn’t put his paw on just what it was yet. The Marionette was an older animatronic than them, and an even older _creature_ , somehow. The combined amalgamation of parts and personality had always been a little different than him and his friends just because of older programming. And, true, Puppet had always been protective by nature, but that nature was kept to a small, tight knit circle. The robots, children. That was it. Perhaps at one point, the puppet enjoyed the adult company of its creator—whoever that was. Michael, night guard or not, should still have been exempt from the Marionette’s overbearing nature. Yet here they were. The two were never seen apart nowadays, the puppet became edgy and almost short tempered as it waited for the young man to return to it. Not since Spring and _that monster_ had been dealt with. Something had changed. Something…

The bear shook is great metal head as it ambled down the hall.

How was Freddy supposed to protect his family if he didn’t know what was going on?

* * *

Nighttime is a wonderful time, because nightfall brings darkness. And there is nothing the Marionette likes better than its most dominate coloring. The darkness of a corner, the inside of its box, that space between realities where it can lurk and think and talk to its dear child. Then of course, there was the minds of men, where the most perfect type of _blackness_ bled from even the gentlest of people.

Yes. The Marionette likes the darkness.

The spindly figure slips from the shadows of the wall and crawls along the ceiling. It is upside down and rather irritated. Scratch that, the puppet is swiftly moving from annoyed to almost mad. It had enough power to do the job it wanted, but knew it would take some judicial use of the dregs of magical abilities it had still at its disposal. Slipping over a light fixture, the puppet absently blacked out the security camera. It would do no good for there to be interruptions, the puppet thinks to itself as it scuttles down the long ceiling.

The audacity this _Adult_ had to encroach upon _its_ restaurant was astounding, and the puppet can’t find an ounce of sociability in his rapidly darkening mood. Its long fingers click along the ceiling like a mouse tap-dancing on a tin can. Marionette twists elegantly in mid air, summoning some of the power its ghostly child enabled it to use. The tearful child, tortured even beyond death, has become a battery of energy and the Puppet is its conduit. Now it is hovering quietly in the corner of the hall, just diagonal from the back exit. From here the puppet can hear the lock being fiddled with, and decides that the intruder is going too slow to satisfy its sour mood.

The puppet shifts its thin hand, making a complicated gesture just as the lock suddenly gives and disengages. The Puppet’s head rolls to the side slowly, studying every movement. If it had a heartbeat, blood would be pounding between its ears from anticipation. The door creaks eerily open in response, and the intruder halts as if in surprise. The human is cast in shadows, wearing all black to help its disguise. But this is shabby black. Whereas the Marionette’s midnight body blends seamlessly with the ever growing darkness. The lights flicker out. Its Night Guard preferred the place to be light, but this was no time for anything warm and friendly light to be let in. The light didn’t belong here, and the Night Guard wasn’t there right now.

The Marionette grinned. Well, it’s always grinning thanks to that painted face, but right now it means it, and that wide black has got an edge of danger to it.

The puppet often has to direct Michael not to play with his strange human food—and if it saw that boy drop _one more_ French fry on the floor and eat in front of the puppet, Marion would throw a fit—but this time, the puppet muses it’s going to have some hand in hypocrisy.

 _‘Do forgive me, my Night guard.’_ The puppet thinks to itself briefly, before gathering all its remaining power. The air crackles around it, shadows become tangible, slippery and able to coat the little hallway. It scuttles along the ceiling to the wall like a spider with a few missing limbs, stretching and winding itself as if it’s made of rubber, and not painted wood. To be fair, it stopped being made of anything as normal as wood a long, long time ago. Now contorting itself into increasingly horrifically weird poses, the monster collects itself purposefully. With all the force it takes to collect its powers, the Marionette knows this is going to take a lot out of it in terms of energy and strength. Not even a recharge to its ancient, rusted batteries might be able to reverse the damage. But it is worth it. To keep the restaurant, the animatronics, and Michael, safe. After some focus, there’s a tiny noise as several thin teeth drop out of its mouth to give it a razor sharp smile. After its teeth appear, the puppet recalls a story Arthur liked to hear about, about a little girl in red visiting her grandmother. The Puppet supposes that makes it the wolf, but it doesn’t mind the comparison. _‘All the better to grin at you with.’_ The figure is, by now, maybe four small, unsure steps into the restaurant when the door slams closed.

The puppet screeches, abandoning words in favor of a horrific sharp noise that cuts through the air and makes the intruder turn clumsily. The Marionette bunches up.

A surprised face turns up just as the puppet leaps with outstretched arms, grinning wickedly as it comes down.

* * *

Mike jolted awake at the sound of the echoing scream.

He yelled too, out of sheer surprise and fear, and tumbled off the little cot. Landing in a pile of limbs on the floor, he groaned as he sat up. He was alone in the room, which was a surprise.

And he was haring screaming, human screaming from the sound of it, was a decidedly worse surprise than being unable to find Mari.

“Shit shit _shit_ ,” Mike was up and out the door in the time it took for something to come down the hall on the ceiling.

It was upside down, slender and stripped, and it was carrying a struggling, half-sobbing figure.

Mike recognized the contorted mass immediately, his eyes falling on the white mask with the glowing purple streaks.

“Mari!” Mike cried out in horror, more so at the actions of his friend than the nightmareish form it sported now.

“S…Stop that—what the heck are you _doing_!?”

 _“Taking care of an intruder,”_ The Marionette hissed, a four foot long limb grabbing the ceiling for leverage as it dragged the body effortlessly by the ankle. “ _Out of my way!”_

Mike’s eyes narrowed, drinking in the situation. Someone all dressed in blacks, their face covered? Coming here in the dead of night? Possible break-in. He couldn’t blame the puppet’s protective streak, which was a mile wide and as bad as Freddy’s, but Mike also knew that there was a time and place for everything. That, combined with the puppet’s hostile shape and the way it had stretched itself out to appear bigger than it usually was, instantly gave Mike a pretty good evaluation of the situation.

“No.” Mike managed, summoning all his courage.

He swallowed and stepped more in front of the puppet, earning an aggravated click of joints and a warbling growl as the now monster-like creature loomed over him. Mari was going for intimidation, trying to scare Mike out of the way to continue its arduous trek to what Mike suspected was Parts and Services. Maybe the _other_ robots had never meant to partake in stuffing bodies into suits, but that didn’t mean the Marionette held the same standards of human life.

Come to think of it, the only adult whose life it seemed to acknowledge was the very human standing defiantly before it. Which was probably the only thing keeping the intruder alive. And while Mike knew that the Marionette might make a fuss, he also knew it would never actually hurt him. Mike knew how the puppet thought, and he was willing to capitalize on that knowledge. He wouldn’t let someone suffer some horrible fate in the sake of some sick twisted form of justice. Never again.

“That intruder is not your plaything, Mari.” Mike scolded, and all levity and casual air had evaporated from his tone like water on a hot stone. “Put them down.”

The elongated Puppet twisted its now three foot neck right side up to glare down at Schmidt, who glared right back. But the human’s hands were fists and his face fearless.

_“He opened the door—he brought this on himself! HE broke the rules—“_

“I’ll shut you down myself if you keep this up, Marionette!” Mike growled, and it carried with it the weight of a much bigger, powerful creature. His voice was a rough bark and it held a tone of command to it Danny envied. The puppet tapped a long limb against the ceiling, clicking in glum submission as it began to lose some of its fire. Good. Mari was usually the first one to see reason, at least for normal matters. Mike begged to any God listening this would ring true like usual. But then something Mari had said caught in the strainer of his brain, and he blinked, lowering a finger he’d been pointing.

“Wait, he?” he said dumbly, head tilting.

Marionette effortlessly swung the body around, ripping off the hood of the human it had captured.

 _“See for yourself!”_ The enraged puppet seethes, threatening to drop the kid altogether, and it takes Mike a moment in the dim lightning, but then he sees freckles and that short hair and wide, frightened eyes. it hits him, and he jumps in shock.

“Danny?!” Mike squawked, hardly daring to believe his eyes. He shot the kid a look that clearly said ‘you and I will talk later…if there’s anything left of you to talk with,’ and went back to his friend. Something about the way the Marionette was…behaving and looking was setting off all sorts of warning bells in the back of Mike’s head. If it got any worse, he might just call Gold out just for safety. But he shouldn’t have to.

The puppet would never hurt him.

His blue eyes suddenly switched into something altogether different, ice melting to cerulean as he really looked up at the jumble of limbs that was his dearest friend.

“…what’s gotten into you? Mari, it’s me. Hey. Look at me, c’mon.” He begged, causing the puppet to falter mid motion and cast him a look.

_“I am fine. Bothered, but fine—“_

“No. No you’re not.” Mike was squinting up at him. “You’ve been acting funny all week! Maybe even…maybe ever since we got back from that horror attraction. What’s going on?” Mike demanded, still staring up at Marionette boldly.

Suddenly there was a disgusted, distracted noise from above. And Danny came crashing down with little care to the floor, where he was mostly caught by Mike. The night guard tracked the sudden jerking of the puppet’s limbs, ducking as it flew overhead like some horrifying poltergeist and made a hair pin turn halfway down the hall into the security office. A clatter of noise followed it, but the scuttling spiderlike form of the puppet was gone.

Mike sighed and gave his attention to the one who needed it most.

“Are you okay?” He doesn’t receive an answer, but Danny is shaking like a leaf and trying to catch his breath. So obviously no, he’s not all right, but he’s not physically harmed it seems. Just shaken. Grabbing one arm and slinging it over his own shoulders, Mike half-drags, half-carries the kid into the Dining Hall where the others were standing around. Bonnie’s ears twitch as they enter, and everyone turns. Their eyeplates rise in growing surprise.

“Young Danny is the intruder?”

“Aye, what be the meaning a’this, laddie?” Foxy snaps his jaw out of curiosity.

“Wait, for real?” Bonnie goes. “A _kid_ broke in?”

“Alright, alright!” That’s Mike, his voice raised just a fraction to be heard over the curious, tense looking robots. “Everything’s fine. Bon, go get him some water, he’s really frightened.” The bunny turned and stomped off.

“Nothing got stolen, _Mari_ found him actually.” At Freddy’s suddenly sheepish tug of his bow-tie, Mike turned a tight glare to him.

“Did you know about this?” When Fred gave him an innocent, ponderous look, Mike saw right through it and frowned. “Mari freaked out, on a kid.”

“He ain’t no kid, not _technically_.”

“Close enough.” Mike’s tone was clipped, and Fazbear winced. “He could have been seriously injured, Fred, breaking in or not.”

“Why _did_ he do it?” Chica asked, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed warningly at the youngest human, who had the common sense to avert his gaze submissively. This took the heat off Freddy, because Mike blinked and paused. Ah, right. He knew he had forgotten something.

“Well I—that’s a good question. I hadn’t asked him yet.” Mike ran a hand through his hair, and dropped to a crouch. “Danny? Hey, look at me—no, it’s okay.” He followed the kid’s terrified gaze and his frowned deepened out of worry.

“The gang?” Mike ran over the pieces of the puzzle. “You’re afraid of them, aren’t you.” It wasn’t phrased like a question, because at this point it didn’t have to be. For one thing, Mike can’t think of anyone over the age of eleven who isn’t a tad unnerved by his friends. Hell, he used to be with them.

Danny nodded, and Mike wondered what posed the kid to take this job in the first place.

“They won’t hurt you, Danny.” For good measure, Mike rested a hand on the teen’s shoulder. Danny jumped, but finally turned to look at him. Bonnie had returned, and with Mike’s coaxing, took a few sips from the offered water.

“…I didn’t mean to look like I was breaking in.” He whispers out very quickly, Mike almost doesn’t catch it. “Honest! I forgot my jacket, I was _sure_ I left it here.”

“He did leave in a hurry after his shift.” Bonnie tosses in helpfully. Mike spares the rabbit a glance but nods, distracted.

“You could have called.” Mike points out.

“D-didn’t know the number. I was hoping someone was here, though…”

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Mike stands up with his hands on his hips, lips set in an uncharacteristic grim line. “Someone _was_ here. I’m sorry Mari gave you a scare, it won’t happen again.” He internally hopes the kid isn’t going to quit on him.

But Danny doesn’t.

Mike can tell he isn’t going to get anything else out of the kid. Still, the night guard isn’t too worried about it. The kid hadn’t quit, (thank god, because they were shorthanded as it was around here) so there was plenty of time to get more information out of him. Mike knows he doesn’t have to tell Fazbear to keep a closer eye on him now; he’s sure Freddy’s already thinking up a plan for that without having to be asked. ‘

 _Thank god for programming,_ ’ Mike thinks dourly.

“You were lucky you weren’t hurt. Next time, though, I might not be there. You have to try to be a little more careful. Yeah?” He tries to smile, but it’s a bit tired and strained. Sometimes he misses the nights when the restaurant was doing poorly and it was just him and the gang until sunrise. It’s a stupid, wistful thought but he can’t stop himself from thinking it.

“Y-yessir.” Danny says, looking at his shoes.

“Why don’t I give you a lift home, Danny?” Mike offers. “It’s too dark out for you to see well enough.”

“I can walk home in this—“ Danny tried, but Mike wouldn’t hear of it. He takes him by the arm pointedly, taking his coat when Freddy hands it to him, and digging his car keys out of his pocket. After bidding the bots a hasty good bye, and with Mike telling them he’ll be back—“And tell Mari, this isn’t over,”—Mike nods to Danny.

“Trust me. The dark can… Let’s just say, lots of things can hide in the dark, kid.” Mike pushes him out the door gently, pulling out his car keys. “Where do you live?”

Danny tells him quietly, but he does not tell him the real reason for sneaking in so late at night.

He still hadn’t found what he had been looking for. 


	4. History's Nasty Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * Two nights down, three more to go  
> *Mike calls a staff meeting  
> *Bonnie the bunny bonds with a boy, and alliteration is fun

**ACT I**

**  
Chapter 4. History’s Nasty Habit**

“Hey.”

“…”

“You can’t shut me out.” Mike walked closer to the silent box. “Not like this. Not right now.”

Again, no response. Not even a shift of that big droopy, frayed bow. Mike rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.

“…I’m not mad, Mari.” He sat in his chair. “Concerned, worried, a little confused because I didn’t know you could go all horror attraction like that…” He waited for the snort the puppet did when Mike thought he was being ‘cute.’ After a moment, the bow bobbed as the lid rose slowly. Mike lifted his head and smiled at him encouragingly. Good. Progress.

The Puppet’s pinprick white eyes stared out from the gloom.

 _“You should fire that boy.”_ It said.

“Mari. It’s not as simple as I would like.” Mike said, and the lid lifted away so the puppet could regard him better. Its spindly body rose out from the box, but only by leaning on the rim of its present box.

_“Why not? He broke the rules. We don’t need him.”_

“Unfortunately, we do. I _gotta_ have someone cover the shifts I can’t do anymore.” Mike pressed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s wearing me way to thin, you know? We _can’t_ legally fire someone only two days into their employment. To say nothing of the bad press it might stir up.” Mike shook his head. The puppet grumbled and stared at him. Its painted smile was just acrylic right now, there was no pleasure behind it. Mike had been around the puppet long enough to tell the difference.

“No, Mari. We’ve all worked too hard to get this place back on the map.”

The Marionette grumbled. “ _You must keep an eye on the boy, then. I do not trust him—”_

“Oh, you made _that_ very clear.” Mike snorted. The puppet pretended not to hear him.

 _“I do **not** want him sitting in your chair.”_ The puppet hissed. _“He is incompetent. He is hiding something.”_

“Mari, like it or not, he’s staying. For now. Five days, tops.” Mike bargained, holding his hands up pleadingly. “I don’t know about that hiding it stuff, but we’ll cover it. Who knows? In a week, you two might warm up to each other. He’s a guard just like I am—“

 _“No.”_ Mari’s voice was calm, but firm. Mike knew the puppet wasn’t going to give an inch. _“I **choose** you. Gold protects everyone else, but **I** was programmed to protect **you** , and it’s **you** who has taken care of me for half a year.”_

“Was it me, or whoever it was that used Gold’s suit?” Mike asked softly after a pause.

 _“One and the same.”_ Came the clipped tone.

Mike nodded. He had a feeling it was going to come down to cold computer logic. Underneath the sarcastic, intelligent mind, there was apparently some hardware left, even if the puppet looked like nothing but haunted oak. Things behind that mask got a little black and white, whereas Arthur brought a different perspective. But Arthur didn’t seem awake at the moment. And while Mike had little to no idea what it was like in the older restaurants, he could piece things together from how the puppet acted. But mostly how the newer trons acted around the puppet.

Not for the first time, Mike wished they could have salvaged something from Springtrap. That AI could have been the key to working out most of the Marionette’s secrets. The only other connection was Gold, and the old bear wasn’t talking any time soon.

“Alright.” Mike said on an exhale. “Alright, okay. Well, luckily you work in the Prize Room during the day, and he has to make rounds. I doubt he’ll even be in this room enough to say so. Is that good?”

 _“Fine.”_ The Marionette agreed edgily. Now that its issue was settled, it swept its gaze over Mike as he leaned back into the chair and groaned. _“Night Guard? Is something wrong?”_

Mike rubbed his eye sockets with his fists, leaning back in the tired chair, which squeaked in faint protest. “I’m just thinking, Mari.”

 _“Quite often, you think out loud.”_ Mari reminded him. “ _I get worried when you fall silent.”_

Mike grinned. “You got any of that sage advice you seem to drop at the exact moment I need it?”

After some consideration, the puppet turned to him and said,

_“One open mind sees more than two open eyes._

Mike sighed. “You’ve told me that before.”

 _“I am hoping some day you’ll hear me.”_ The Marionette answered with a hint of sarcasm to its tone.

Mike just smiled wryly.

* * *

“Gang? Staff meeting.” Mike called.

The robots blinked, watching their tired looking night guard shuffle into the dining hall. Freddy walked over from where he was standing by the door. Bonnie, Foxy and BalloonBoy abandoned their game of Poker—which was for the better, because Bon was cheating, Foxy was losing and BB thought they were playing Go Fish—and Chica came in the from the kitchen, mixing some batter for the base of a cake.

“What’s the matter, son?” Freddy asked genially, though he could have taken a couple stabs at what the problem was.

Mike shifted his weight. “Here’s the deal. Mari’s…he’s taking a little nap.”

“Hello?” BB asked, looking worried as he rocked to a stop beside Mike’s sneaker.

“No, I didn’t shut him down.” Mike rubbed the back of his head. Let’s be real, that was a pretty empty promise. He was too used to the puppet being around him. That aside, he wasn’t even sure _where_ the Off switch was for something like the puppet. The little guy wasn’t exactly the norm when it came to technology.

“He also thinks something’s off about Danny.” Mike said slowly, tasting the words. Freddy grunted, but seemed to agree. Mike honestly wasn’t expecting that.

“Ah. You mean on accounta’the lad being a right mess?”

“No. But good point, Foxy.” Mike snorted at the Foxy’s heavy handed explanation.

Mike had closed the distance between him and Freddy. He liked having the bear’s support behind him, verbal and physical. He had figured out it was a combination programming and real affection that made Freddy the first to hear him out and the last to deny his thoughts. The bear was an invaluable asset when it came to talking with particularly aggressive parents too. Freddy’s personality, combined with his impressive girth and height, boosted the skinny, short night guard’s confidence when Mike needed it most.

As the days wore on, that strength was something Mike needed to call on to keep himself functioning without having a breakdown of his own. And with the way things were going, they were only going to get worse.

Without thinking, Mike dropped his hip and moved to lean against Freddy, who moved closer automatically as Mike did. Arms folded and one leg tipped over the other, Mike leaned against his friend and turned to Bonnie, who was speaking.

“That kid’s a walking train wreck,” Bonnie rolled his eyes. “We’re lucky he hasn’t broken one of us.”

“I’m glad you voiced your worry, Bon.” Mike said with a feral grin, and the rabbit had the common sense to look nervous. “Because _you’ve_ just elected to work with him. Good bunny.” Mike complimented, and Foxy sniggered behind his hook at the rabbit’s dropped jaw.

“What?! Oh fudge no!” The rabbit’s huge ears flicked back to show his disapproval.

“Oh fudge yes!” Mike smiled, hands on his hips. He never got tired of the work around his friend’s had to use to allow them to ‘curse.’ It was adorable, even if it was coming from a robot that had several pounds and a foot on him.

“He’ll fall into me and break me, or worse!” Bonnie complained.

“Nonsense, you can take him. And you weigh double what he does, Bon.” All valid points. The rabbit didn’t look happy

“Why can’t Freddy do it?” Bonnie asked. “Or Foxy!? _He_ doesn’t have to be on stage!”

“Fred’s got his hands full as it is. Foxy’s got his own stage now, you know that.” Mike frowned. “And as for why YOU, well, who’s the best tracker?” Slyly, Mike pointed to those towering ears.

Bonnie looked away doggedly.

“Mister Ears. You were always the first to move because _you’re_ the one with the sonar in those things. That means _you_ can track Danny across the entire restaurant and not worry about losing him once you’re locked on. Well?” Mike finished, looking triumphant. Bonnie grumbled and swung said ears back, as if to deny their immensely useful capabilities. Sure, they were built and programmed entertainers. But their creator, whoever that had been, had clearly fiddled and tweaked all of them over the years.

Bonnie’s sonar was as useful as Chica’s dexterity for icing cakes. As was Freddy’s incredible sturdiness and Foxy’s powerful memory and optics to let him perform roaming tasks like running the rooms even with his eye patch down.

“Come on, Bon.” Mike said, voice turning a touch stern. The rabbit grumbled. Again, servos whined as his ears bobbed and flicked to further voice his displeasure. The noise was more machine than animal, but it got the point across.

“….Fine.” The rabbit relented.

“Thank you.” Mike was glad that had gone with as little as trouble as possible. Granted, Danny didn’t know of any of this yet, but that—along with the rest of Mike’s plan—could wait. For now, the first part was started, and Bonnie was onboard. No matter how begrudgingly.

“Since that’s settled, I’ve got to finish your arm, Freddy.” Mike turned to smile up at the bear as he pushed off him. He pointed to the pirate fox. “And I still want to look at getting Foxy’s jaw and hook tweaked.”

“I’m going to go get this cake in the oven before it gets any later.” Chica glanced at the clock as she passed it, “Or earlier. Or whatever. Foxy, you want to give me a hand until Mikey’s ready for you?”

“Be right with you, lass.” The fox hummed agreeably.

Bonnie, for his part, grumbled something about checking his guitar. He headed for the stage, and no one blamed him for wanting to stew alone by himself for a bit.

“C’mon, big guy.” Mike said, waving an arm toward Fazbear. After a moment, the bear turned and followed the night guard to Parts and Services. He was on the bench for a while when he finally spoke up.

“Ya sure this is a good idea, son?” Freddy ventured. Mike looked up at him from where he was working on the big bear’s shoulder. “On Bon and young Daniel, I mean.” The bear clarified.

“It can’t hurt.” Mike grinned. “Besides, you _were_ the one who told me Bonnie was programmed after teenagers. _I_ think they’ll get along swimmingly.”

“Ay’yup, that’s true. He is.” Freddy agreed, but his lowered eye plates give him a troubled expression. “But this plan’a yours might do more harm than good. You don’t think tha’?”

Mike was quiet for a moment as he turned the wrench. He kept his gaze steady on the socket but finally glanced at Freddy and answered honestly.

“I think we gotta keep an eye on Danny. And I think Bon’s the best bunny for the job. He’s known for roaming more now that Foxy’s got his cove back, so it won’t raise any eyebrows. I didn’t give him the job just to inconvenience him, or because of his ears. And you’re never more obvious than when you’re trying to be sneaky, Faz.”

Freddy paused at the last comment, but took it with a good natured chuckle. The night guard grinned impishly back at him, and asked him to raise his arm so he could better reach the wires that needed replacing.

“Reckon yer right, son.” Freddy lifted his arm obediently when Mike instructed him to.

“Besides, it just felt…it was like…” He frowned, trailing off. He coulnd’t quite put the feeling into words. Which was unlike him, and it was a bit frustrating.

“It just felt right, y’know?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to vocalize his feelings. “Almost like, like _Gold_ wanted me to.”

“He speak to ya?” Freddy asked politely. Mike and Gold’s relationship was much closer to the Puppet and Arthur’s—it was nothing like the other four had endured with their kid’s spirits. For the main four, the robots were the suits. The anchors.

For their night guard, the _human_ was, essentially, the walking, talking suit. Gold only came out when things went from bad to worse. Thankfully, the monstrous, ancient suit hadn’t had to come out lately. Freddy hoped their luck would hold, but he sensed otherwise. It was a mystery to the animatronics how Gold and Mike (and Marion and the Child) operated, but they were too respectful of Marion to ever ask. Mike, of course, was more open. Even if he knew less.

“No.” Mike’s brow bunched. “But it was like we both agreed on this unspoken idea to stick Bon and Danny together. I don’t know how idea it was though, his or mine…”

“Well, no harm done. I reckon you’ll find out if you need to.” Freddy comforted, tone sage. “And if you don’t find out, it was never a problem in the first place.”

“I suppose you’re right, big guy.” He sighed, and let the worry move to the back of his mind for now. Freddy had a point. If you could do something about it, why were you worrying? And, if you _couldn’t_ do something about it… _why_ were you _worrying_?

Mike smiled, the bear always seemed to know what to say.

Mike yawned and wedged a flashlight under his chin and sternum, trying to balance the beam of light under the crevice of the robot’s arm. “Okay, now hold still…this miiight tingle a bit…”

All in all, nothing out of the ordinary happened for the rest of the night. Freddy’s arm got its new wires. Mike made a list of parts to scavenge up to keep Foxy’s jaw from swinging loose so much. Bonnie avoided Mike until the rest of the night, which showed he was no longer sore at their night guard. Chica finished the cake order, knowing full well she’d receive at least three more tomorrow alone. Mike hadn’t expected the not-really-a-break-in to be the match that started the fire, in any sense of the word.

In retrospect, he really should have.

* * *

When he got to work later that day, Danny was greeted by Mike. For a second he thought the man was staying, but he was on his way out. Had he been here since this morning? It certainly looked that way.

“Have fun—hey, remember to smile, Danny.” Mike ran his finger over his face in an upside down arc. His own grin was weary, but its met his blue eyes. “You’re the face of Freddy Fazbear’s.”

“Uh, right, sir.” Danny managed, glancing warily at the restaurant he was entering.

On the one hand, he could probably snoop around without Mister Schmidt in the building. On the other, if he ran into that kooky puppet again—or any of the _other_ bots—Mr. Schmidt wasn’t in the building. At all. It was his job as day guard now to keep an eye over the little place. Danny walked into the restaurant, noting Freddy and the others were still on stage in the middle of their show. Once that ended, they would go on Free Roam and he would lose any chance at finding some information. Briefly, the kid wished he had just one more day of orientation, or that Mike had left some kind of way to reach him by incase things took a turn for the worse.

First things first, he had to change into his uniform in the bathroom’s, and then visit the Guard’s Office to pick up the tablet. He didn’t see any robots on his way to the room; though he was sure he had felt their eyes tracking him from the stage as he moved across the dining hall. Perhaps it was just his imagination?

Young Danny gulped, and steeled himself.

He had just finished buttoning up the blue shirt when he was distinctly aware of eyes on his back. That, and the sound of machinery in motion. Machinery moving itself, by nothing but sheer electronic force, computer logic, and a very high capacity for a type of stubbornness that kept it moving—in sheer denial of every living thing.

He turned, saw plastic eyes, and screamed. The abomination known as the animatronic tilted its head quizzically and watched him bluster back into the sink. After Danny realized it was only the bunny, he swallowed his noise and sucked in all his air.

“Jumpier than a rabbit, kid,” Bonnie’s voice box said cheerfully before adding, “And that’s coming from one.” His two large rabbit ears swiveled in random directions, a complicated set of two-way speakers that allowed him to see in ways that didn’t involve his dry, too shiny optics.

“So whatcha’ up to, kid?”

“My name’s Danny, not kid.” The teen managed after a wheeze, still using the sink behind him as a support. “And I’m starting my shift, okay?”

“Mind if I tag along, kid?” Bonnie stated impassively, making it clear that he had heard Danny and was choosing to disregard him.

Danny groaned inwardly, but knew better than to start an argument.

Against the two ton purple rabbit? He had a better chance against Matt Luzoski, who was on the football team and liked to throw nerds into the girl’s bathroom because it was ‘fun.’

Whining in the back of his throat and wondering why him, Danny tucked the tablet under his arm and inched past the bunny. Maybe if he ignored it, the creepy bunny would get the hint and leave him alone?

His heart sank when he heard the rabbit flat foot falls land easily behind him.

Oh well. Maybe he could lose him in the crowds.

* * *

He had one hour left on his shift, but young Danny had long since discovered shaking Bonnie the Bunny was like trying to deny a hound from its prey.

He turned a corner and stopped short to avoid colliding with the purple bunny. The rabbit turned his head a bit, ears lifting as he eyed the kid. It was like he magically appeared before him, how had Bonnie known Danny was heading past Pirate Cove?!

“Ugh—for the last time, _why_ are you following me?”

“I been meaning to ask you the same thing about being in front of me all the time.” The rabbit argued impishly and Danny wanted to throw the tablet at his stupid rabbit face.

“I’m taking my break.” Said Danny, who noticed he’d missed it and was long overdue. Mike had told him that for twenty minutes he had a short break. All he had to do was tell one of the robots, and their programming would take over the job for a short while, if no one else was available.

Bonnie’s ears twitched. “Fine.” He backed off someone, and Danny high-tailed it to the kitchen for a slice. He ate it outside on the back step, staring out over the tiny parking lot and wondering what lay in the woods out back behind the restaurant.

 _This_ day wasn’t going well at all. The weather kept his glum mood, and he noticed that closing time was fast approaching. His feet hurt, his back ached, and his nerves were shot from trying to act natural as Bonnie refused to leave him alone. The teen ran a hand through his hair, tossed his paper plate out into the dumpsters by the back door and headed back in with two minutes to spare.

On the bright side, Danny seemed to have finally shaken the rabbit.

On the other hand, his good mood was dampened when he headed into the arcade and promptly spotted a group of rowdy teens, his age or, worse, older.

The teens appearance weren’t strange, sometimes teens from yesteryear, that grew up here, would wander back. The animatronics never minded, and they never forgot a face. You had to have a parent with you if you were under fourteen, and adults were expressly forbidden without a kid under that same age. That was a relatively new rule, but Danny remembers seeing it.

These were the usual gang of kids on the cusp of too old and still wanting to be young.

That wouldn’t be a problem with Danny, if they weren’t taking their frustrations out on the archaic arcade games.

“H-hey, you really shouldn’t…h-hit these machines.” Danny said, remembering how yesterday he’d seen his boss laboring over them, begging and sweet talking them into powering up for just one more day. All of Mike’s hard work was going down the drain because some idiot felt cheated out of his quarters. His shoes were expensive, his jacket name brand and he didn’t look like the kid that would care about quarters. He just wanted to look tough in front of his buddies.

“An’what are _you_ gonna do about it, dipshit?” The middle one antagonized, taking a step at Danny. Who, understandably, tensed and instinctively took a step back.

As if on cue, a shadow fell over them. The boys became distinctly aware of Danny staring at something behind them. they turned as one, listening to the crunch of stiff fabric and whine of metal as the rabbit’s ears swiveled toward them and went stock still. Danny gulped, because he had learned swiftly what that subtle movement. You could hear Bonnie’s processors grinding.

“Uh-oh,” He said in too bright, cheerful tones. It had a razor edge to it, though. “Looks like someone’s not following the rules here at Freddy Fazbear’s!”

The bunny leaned in very, very close. His glassy eyes stayed locked on the middle teen, but the other two friends remained rooted as if Bonnie were looking at them too.

“Do you know what that means?”

“H—heh. Tch!” Danny had to give the guy points. He tried to pick up his bravado off the floor before Bonnie stomped it any farther into the ground. “Lookit this bucket of bolts—things malfunctioning! I didn’t break any rules.” The kid said nastily.

Bonnie’s jaw worked, optics narrowing into a deadly smile, and Danny swallowed. ‘ _Yes you did.’_ He thought desperately _. ‘You swore.’_ He could still remember the list of rules he’d signed his name under.

And there was one other rule, one Danny didn’t, couldn’t know about. And it belonged to the group of animatronics, long ago instilled to promote the very special motto about family.

The robots looked out for staff, just like they did the kids.

And the punk had threatened the day guard.

“Sorry, pal. But I’m going to have to request you leave the premises quick. _Like a bunny.”_ Bonnie’s face was now very close to the middle guy, he could probably feel the warm exhaust the bunny exhaled to keep his system cooled. The eyes were calm and emotionless, unless you knew where to look for signs of…life.

Something about the way Bonnie was speaking, the way he looming like that, made Danny’s brain tingle. It was like a memory, but yet…not. He couldn’t quite put what he was thinking of into words, but it was something warm and distant. It reminded him of his dad, but that…that was impossible.

He closed his eyes— _big, hard but gentle arms cradling him, the hum of a fan, a man’s laughter as Danny looked up into a black void with red pinprick eyes. His pudgy hand reached for the hanging cords, unaware that any fear he could be feeling toward the faceless behemoth that stared down at him_ —and opened them.

It was only a blink, but it left him faintly dizzy. Over the older boy’s heads, Bonnie seemed to notice this, and his temper grew. Out of worry for Danny or something else, only the rabbit could be sure.

“You can’t do anything, rabbit. Yer just a hunk of metal—“ The middle kid grumbled sourly, and Danny felt himself bristle.

“Don’t talk about him like that.” Even he looked surprised at his outburst. Bonnie’s plastic eyes clicked to him, and something passed between them for a moment. Danny wondered what it was, but it made his chest warm.

Beside him, the friends of the arcade player seemed less behind their comrade in the sentimental sense. Physically, they were all trying to step behind the middle kid at once as if to hide from Bonnie’s stare. It wasn’t working. Bonnie’s stare never wavered, but his ears moved in two different directions, locked onto them. The effect was the sensation of being watched by something that didn’t _need_ eyes to see, and it chilled Danny to the core. Nothing should be more advanced than the creator, but here stood Bonnie. And there were at least five more just like him!

Still, it wasn’t like the rabbit was doing this to _him_. If anything, the rabbit had technically come to his rescue, though the teen suspected it was mostly because Bonnie’s sharp hearing had picked up the forbidden word.

“Or—or what?”

“Or I shut off my programming that says I don’t toss overgrown weeds like you clear out threw a window.” Bonnie’s face plates moved to make an impressive sneer. “Ya _dig_?”

“You can’t—“

“Oh, but I can, bucko. Now. Amscray, before I get Freddy, or quarters won’t be the _only_ thing you lose.”

That did it.

Later, Danny wouldn’t remember the nasty look the boys were throwing him. Looks that warned this clearly wasn’t over, that they blamed all their ruined fun on the green day guard who thought just because he had a badge and the tablet meant he was hot shit. Danny didn’t notice any of that. The door was swinging shut before Danny could find his voice, and even then he had to cough to get the rabbit’s ears to swing toward him again. He was too busy watching the rabbit, the wariness fading from his brown eyes slowly. Bonnie’s own plastic ones looked at him sideways as the rabbit checked the abused arcade game. It _looked_ alright…

Bonnie pulled back from it, apparently satisfied. He finally turned all his attention onto the day guard, and his eyes clacked to the right to stare Danny. Not for the first time, something about the kid seemed…familiar. But it was distant, and his programming couldn’t quite string together the right connections to give him the answer he was seeking. He wondered if he was the only one who felt that way when they looked at the day guard Mike had hired. Maybe Foxy was right. Maybe they were getting to old for this job.

Danny was still standing in quiet, stilled awe. The rabbit’s fur crinkled as he moved his chest out proudly. Finally, the kid started a blustered sentence of,

“But I thought—you guys are supposed to _love_ kids.”

“Oh, we do.” The rabbit’s voice box agreed, tone light and chipper. Now Danny recognized the hint of sarcasm. Bonnie acted like a teen himself half the time!

“ _Little_ kids, you ain’t never noticed that?” He snorted. “And those ‘kids’ are on their last year before they become adults. Just like you, Danny-boy. And then the programming changes.” He shook his head at the door in faint annoyance,

“Besides, I may love kids, but Mike’s busted his behind getting these arcade games to work!”

 _‘And Bonnie likes Mr. Schmidt so much more than older kids.’_ Danny thought numbly. _‘These can’t be the same uncontrollable monsters Mom told me about. They’re wrapped around Mr. Schmidt’s finger, and not because of programming. Because their programming would go against that. They just actually, really, truly like him. Like he’s one of them.’_

It was a ridiculous, fleeting thought. But there it was. Danny nodded at the rabbit, showing he’d heard. He checked his watch, relieved to find closing time was half an hour away, and his boss would be returning soon.

“Hey. Uh thanks, for back there.” Danny finally managed, jerking his thumb behind him as they headed down the hall to check on the dining room.

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Bonnie said as he ambled along behind him.

Despite himself, Danny felt a tiny smile tug as his lips.

Turns out, there is something nice about someone having your back. Giant mechanical bunny or not, that’s what Bonnie had done. Danny wasn’t sure he would be able to warm up to the others, if at all. But now, he and Bonnie saw a familiarity in each other, and it kindled a friendship.

* * *

 

 _‘How… interesting.’_ The Marionette turned from its spot where it hung through a wall. Closing the distance of the empty Prize Room, it twisted its body back into its box.

While it had absently watched most of the restaurant’s events today, Bonnie and the boy bonding wasn’t expected at all.

“Hello?” asked BalloonBoy in a questioning mutter. His tone was distracted, because he was organizing the remainder of his balloons. It had been a busy Saturday for them both, leaving little time for organization. The puppet sat in its box and stroked the bottom of its porcelain face in thought.

The puppet sighed wearily, as if what was going on was some great tragedy. BB didn’t quite catch on, but he, too, had watched the purple bunny and the kid talking together as the restaurant closed for the night.

 _“I’ve said it before, BB, and I’ll say it again.”_ The Marionette watched the restaurant outside of the Prize Room from his box.

“Hi.” BB’s tone was sympathetic and understanding. But to be honest, and his expression said as much, he didn’t quite know why it was such a problem. In fact, he thought it was rather interesting, the two of them becoming something like friends.

 _“History always has that nasty habit of repeating itself.” _The puppet rubbed its large forehead as if it had a headache.

This was going to make things much more difficult, the Marionette suspected.

BalloonBoy was just glad for Bonnie. None of the animatronics had been as close to Mr. Fitzgerald as the old purple rabbit had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems odd to be on chapter 4 and only be halfway done with Act I. Stay tuned…for danger!


	5. 1985 was a Good Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Mike gets spread too thin  
> *Danny gets some answers   
> *Nightmare Chica tries to make toast  
> *"Dismantling a person"

**ACT I**

**  
Chapter 5. 1985 Was a Good Year**

At any given moment in time, there were a dozen problems that came with running a restaurant. There was the insurance, cleaning, stock, shifts, staff, electricity—and the robots chewed through _that_ stuff like fire through kindling—among an assortment of other little bits and pieces that cropped up at the most inopportune times. With the loss of Mike’s nightly duties, the daytime chores quickly took over into his nights, too. There was little to guard, technically, what with the robots on Free Roam and a lack of anything _unusual_ happening that required his attention.

The Marionette was asleep.

Rather normal, considering the circumstances. After all, the puppet’s days were once again alight with the laughter of children, so this didn’t allow for it to continue its nocturnal habits. That being said, it still drastically rearranged its schedule to allow time with the night guard. So here Mike sat, crossed legged in the center of a swirl of papers, pens, a calculator, and his laptop. He chewed on a pen cap thoughtfully as he tried to balance a couple expenses in his head. It was nearing twelve, and he could still hear the clean-up crew bustling about outside. Freddy’s friendly, deep baritone sounded as well.

He looked around at the mess he’d made spread out on the floor of the security office. Entertaining the idea of an actual _workspace_ , the young man arched his back until his spine cracked and his bad shoulder popped. His little groan of relief was broken by the sound of silk rustling, and he glanced up to where the present box sat on the desk. Spindly stripped arms were lifting a sleepy looking Puppet from its little home, and Mike grinned up at it.

“Have a good recharge, sleepyhead?” Mike asked cheerfully, watching Mari pull its box down to rest on the floor near the night guard’s side. It sank back into the box soon after situating itself next to the man.

 _“I think so.”_ It sounded troubled, and Mike made a mental note to look into that…as soon as he got the check book balanced and the worker’s W2 forms stashed away properly. The puppet folded itself neatly into its box, then dug around for a moment until it found Mike’s old GameBoy, and fired it up.

After the third frustrated noise from the skinny man, the Puppet paused its game and peered curiously over the lip of the present box.

 _“What is the trouble, night guard?”_ It asked, not unkindly.

“Ah, nothing. Nothing, just this…all this legal… _jargon_.” Mike admitted. “You know I feel better with schematics and, and coding and machinery! _That_ makes sense. _That_ has order. _This_ does not. If anything, a schematic isn’t out to screw you.”

 _“You could perhaps contact Mr. Drummond.”_ Spoke the Puppet, referring to the company’s secretary that popped up like bad acne every once in a while. He somehow made his appearance both a blessing and a curse, because he always seems to have good AND bad news. His next visit wasn’t until toward Christmas, so they had a solid two months to go.

“Not this late at night.” Mike pointed out. “That reminds me, Mari, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

_“Procrastination is the drug of the mind, dear Night Guard.”_

“It sure is. But you’re not weaseling out of it this time, ya little devil.”

The puppet’eyes on its mask narrowed in obvious amusement, and this earned Mike the reward of it pausing whatever video game it was playing now. He had his friend’s full attention.

“That thing you did…Sunday, was it? When Danny broke in—“ Mike frowned as he tried to recall.

 _“Yes. The night of the break in where I…”_ Its spider leg fingers drummed along the box as it spoke delicately. _“ Lost my temper,’ let’s say. What about it_?” Though judging by the puppet’s tone, it knew exactly what Mike was trying to pin down.

“Uh-huh. How did you _do_ that? How did you change, Mari? It was you, I’d recognize you anywhere—but I had _never_ seen you like that. You were… _warped_. Like a,” Mike wracked his brain for a word that summarized the horrific, long limbed monster he’d come face to face with.

“Like bad nightmare.”

 _“Nightmare?”_ Its porcelain head tilted as it considered this. _“Yes, I suppose that’s a good way of putting it. A nightmare, as far as I’ve been told, is a terrifying or very unpleasant experience or prospect.”_ It looked down to its human for clarification.

“Well, yeah.” Mike nodded slowly. “A lot of times it’s the opposite of a good dream. Humans dream when they’re asleep.”

 _“And when they’re awake, too.”_ The puppet murmurs in that quiet, knowing little voice. _“But I am more accustomed to nightmares, Night Guard. And at one point in my existence, I had to camouflage to survive. So I became a Nightmare.”_

“Camouflage?” and then Mike’s eyes widened at the last sentence. “Mari, you became a—can the others do this?” He blurted.

 _“No.”_ The puppet was too blunt sounding to be lying. It also wasn’t very good at it. “ _Nightmares do not exist out here, you see.”_

“Here?” Mike parroted, brow knitting. “You mean then they’re somewhere else. _Where_ , Mari?” He couldn’t help it, his curiosity was piqued. And it wasn’t like the Nightmare form of the Marionette had actually _hurt_ anyone—scared their day guard a bit, but Mike’s concept of fear was, arguably, a bit worse than the normal Joe’s. A well earned vestige of working at Fazbear’s for so long and not losing his mind. Perhaps the others, whoever and wherever they maybe, were the same as the Marionette? Fearsome but ultimately harmless.

Or, perhaps, Mike had grown too used to his friendship with the animatronics, and was choosing to forget that what lurked in the hearts of men was nothing compared to what lurked in the mind.

 _“There are some doors that should never be opened.”_ said the Marionette. Mike drew back in mild frustration, but acceptance.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I was just wondering…about them.” Mike trailed off, hoping his friend would take the bait. The puppet politely unpaused the GameBoy, and Mike frowned.

“You always use that door excuse when you don’t want to explain something, Mari.” His tone sounded disappointed, and a little hurt. He hoped his best friend would take the bait.

 _“Mostly because I am trying to protect you.”_ He didn’t.

“I know, but I didn’t ask that question to start an argument—why can’t you just tell me, Mari?” Mike asked.

The expression the Marionette gave him was one that could only be described as thoroughly insulted.

 _“Arguments begin with an answer in mind. Conversation begins with a question.”_ The puppet said briskly. Well, if the door comment didn’t mark the end of Mike’s proverbial digging, that little fortune-cookie comment certainly did. Blue eyes rolled softly.

“Yeah.” Mike snorted as he flipped over a spreadsheet and ran through the numbers quickly. “Well, _I’m_ gonna start a couple arguments if we keep getting jiped on the pizza dough orders. This is highway robbery, is what it is.”

The Puppet rolled its glowing pinprick eyes—a habit it had picked up from Mike—and simply retreated back into its box. Mike often wondered what was behind those spooky eyes. What _exactly_ went on in the Marionette’s mind, to be more specific? All cold and brittle, he imagined, all silver strings glinting from the pitch black, and little gears ticking along like a massive clock. The kind of mind that won’t tell you all the rules to the game you’re playing for infinite stakes.

The kind of mind that smiles _all_ the time, even when that smile has no business being there.

Maybe before he became Manager, he would have had plenty of time to pester, divulge and pick apart the puppet’s cryptic speech pattern. There was always a system to be found.

Not anymore. There were too many problems that needed his attention, and the electrical bill won out against not-there, possibly psychological ghosts of the past that were scarier than they looked.

_“Do not let me keep you from your work, Night Guard.”_

All was silent, and it took Mike a moment to realize the puppet had fallen back to sleep.

With a worried sigh, the night guard went back to the work that was _never_ supposed to be the night guard’s job.

* * *

_The smell of dough baking and cheese melting. The feel of his hand gripping a thick, stubby purple crayon as he lay belly down on the cool floor, surrounded on three sides in the enclosed shelter of the large desk. The dim glow of a bulb from the front, what little that could get in. The sound of his dad’s shoes on the linoleum and the rolly chair squeaking._

_A low warm voice from above him. It sounded like thunder over a far off hill._

Danny opened his eyes. He struggled to keep the memory in his head, tried to put a face to the sound of the man’s voice. He tried, so hard, to clarify that voice so he could hear what he was saying. It didn’t work. The sensations slipped from his mind like water from his fingers.

He was trying too hard, that’s what it was.

With a frustrated sigh, Danny looked up at the afternoon sky. It was a gray, chilly Wednesday in fall and the leaves rustled around his feet. Sitting on the back stoop of Fazbear’s, he had five minutes left on his break and he didn’t have the heart to drag his butt up and head in early. Vaguely, eyes still locked on the dar sky, Danny wondered where Bonnie had gotten off to. He wasn’t really sure how he got so close to a walking piece of machinery that was supposed to be for kids, but he had. It had only been five days since he’d started last Saturday.

Huh, five whole days.

The only reason Danny had come in off his shift was because it was well after four, and he thought he could do some extra snooping while he was ‘getting a bite to eat.’ Either Mike had seen right though this—which was an eerie thought—or the guy just had good timing. Somehow Danny found himself in uniform working the shift until the place closed.

“I just want one thing.” He finally told the landscape, tone tinged with desperation. “ _Please_. Just one thing to remember him by—“

“What is it about back here that makes people talk to themselves?”

Danny jumped and twisted while looking up. And up and up.

“Bonnie!” He scolded, scrambling to his feet as the rabbit snickered.

The rabbit had to duck a bit so his ears wouldn’t hit the door frame, but he managed it and leaned out as far as his body would allow without overbalancing.

“Your break is almost up, you know.” He informed wryly.

“I know.” Danny frowned a little, but it was more a pout than anything.

“So. Who _exactly_ are you trying to remember?”

Danny visibly paled. His eyes went from Bonnie’s red optics to the rabbit ears bent in his direction, and he swallowed. This nervous action gave him away entirely.

“It’s—it’s nothing, Bon.” Unable to save face and deny the statement altogether, he did what any self-respecting teenager would do, and closed himself off. “Just leave it alone, okay?” Granted, a concept the bunny was _very_ bad at, and Danny had only known him a handful of days. And Bonnie didn’t disappoint. He made a big show of being insulted, sighing electronic, dramatic sighs.

“Don’t be like that.” The robotic rabbit protested as it backed up to allow Danny to reenter the pizzeria. They stood in the hall just before the back exit, letting the cool air in. “C’mon, you can tell me. These big ears may catch secrets, but my mouth’s not as big.”

Danny shot him a stern look. Bonnie grinned sheepishly.

“Awright, so it is. But I _won’t_ tell on this one, promise, kid.” Bonnie’s ears leaned toward one another to form an X. “Cross my ears and hope to fry.”

At this, Danny finally opened his mouth and forced the words to come out.

“My…my dad. He worked here in the 80’s. Started in 1985, I think.”

“That’s impossible, kid.”

“What? No it’s not! It’s true—“

“Alright, sure.” And then Bonnie put his hands on his hips and went, “Cept this place wasn’t _here_ til the 90’s. Even Mike can tell you that, and he’s worked here since July, numbskull.”

“What? But I was sure…” For a moment, his entire plans had been dashed almost ruthlessly.

“Yer thinking of the other one! There were three, to be exact. But in the 80’s, we were all at a different location.” Bonnie informed him casually. “Lot bigger. Nicer, too.”

“…oh?” Danny swallowed, watching the Bonnie stop and roll his red optics up to the grimy ceiling. It took Danny a moment to realize he was thinking. Weird, robots that were so… _animated_.

“1985, huh?” Bonnie finally said slowly. Realizing not all hope was lost, the teen perked up and turned to him, body tensed in anticipation.

“Yeah! Ring any bells?!” Danny asked eagerly.

“Mmhm, well… does it?” Bonnie asked playfully, but before he could realize, he had opened an old file. His processors gobbled it up and relayed the information almost too fast for his memory to process it—

_Children’s laughter. The distant din of cutlery clanking. Bright sounds, electrifying noise._

_All of it, all of it, was out of his reach. _

_He was not part of the show. He had no place here. He was what every animatronic dreaded—if they were complex enough to dread, anyway. Just like his friends…_

_They were—_

_He was—_

_Offline._

_“_ Can’t say I do.” Bonnie lied casually. He side-eyed the glum looking teen and offered, “Sorry, buster. Uh, but if I DO think of something, you’ll be the second to know. And, hey! You can always ask one of the others. I mean, the Puppet alone HAS to know something, he was—“

“No _way_!” Danny cut him off right there, waving his arms in the negative motion. “I’m gonna stop you on that, Bonnie. That thing hates me….and it creeps me out.”

“Who—the puppet?” Bonnie clarified, then snorted when the teen at his side nodded. “Aw, you got nothing to worry about as long as Mike’s around.” He waved the kids worries off.

“Mister Schmidt? Why? Did he build the puppet?” Danny couldn’t help it. He was a naturally curious person, and Danny had seen the man working on everything from the arcade games to the robots themselves. That might explain how he controlled the robots in the beginning, he used the Marionette to do it somehow! That made sense, right?

But then Bonnie was shaking his head, servos whirring gently at the action.

“Nah. Come to think of it, I’m not sure who DID build the puppet. He was already in the diner when we were brought in. That was way back when, and you said your dad worked at the pizzeria, not the diner. No…” Bonnie trailed off, searching deep in his databanks for something that was simply not there.

“He’s the oldest animatronic of us all. _One_ of two, at the very least.” Bonnie lowered his hand from where it was holding his chin; it was a gesture he had picked up from Mike when the guy was lost in thought. Danny threw this information out and shook his head again.

“I don’t care how old that thing is—I’m not asking it for _anything_ if I can help it.”

“I guess I don’t blame ya. Chicken.” The bunny accused playfully, his eye plates lowering as he challenged the kid.

“Hey! Am not!” Danny shot back.

Bonnie’s head moved back to open his mouth wider. “Hah! Are so!”

“Are _not_!”

“Oh, REAL mature, bucko.”

“I’ll show you mature, you two-ton rodent—“ Danny was off insulting him as they headed for the halls to continue guard duty. Well, Danny was guarding the place, Bonnie was…doing whatever it was Bonnie did when he wasn’t on stage entertaining the kids. That apparently meant following Danny around—not that the kid minded much lately.

Bonnie had similar thoughts.

Ah. Effectively distracted. One of the perks about being programmed toward teens meant you knew how they thought and worked. They had the attention spans of gnats too, thank the Creator.

And Bonnie _really_ didn’t want to linger on the subject of _that place_ any longer than he had to, thank you very much. The rabbit fought off a shiver, a strange sensation that made his motherboard feel rather heavy.

1985? Yes, Bonnie the bunny remembered 1985 very well.

It had been a good year, but not for him.

* * *

Alas, good things do not last. And it is always darkest before dawn, and things always go from bad to worse before they ever get better. Perhaps a negative outlook, but realism kept you from being eaten in the animal kingdom. With any luck, that concept might carry over to humans and robots.

It was closing time when it happened.

“Hey…do you smell smoke?” Danny asked suddenly on reflex. Bonnie shot him a deadpan stare.

“Robot, remember?” Bonnie said, and Danny flushed.

“Oh, r-right.” The human twisted around the corner, glancing toward the kitchen doors. “It smells like it’s coming from the kitchen.”

The rabbit’s eye plates dropped down, out of worry rather than fear. He followed the kid up to the double doors, and when Danny pushed through them, he fell into a cough fit.

“You okay?” Bonnie called as he headed in. The rabbit blinked, trying to rapidly process the smoke and tongues of—

“ _Fire_!?” The rabbit jumped a mile, speakers up to full volume. Bonnie became distinctly aware of the figure covered by the black smog, and squinted toward the ovens. He knew that block of yellow.

“Chica? What are you doing? Why didn’t you set off the alarms?” That was one of their protocols! Fire wasn’t bad for _them_ , except maybe their suits, but to humans it was deathly. Bonnie’s ears flicked in agitation at his friend’s strange and sudden carelessness. “Fred’s gonna have your beak! Mike and Danny could have gotten roasted! And _get away_ from there—“

But then the chicken turned, and both human and robot froze.

Too many teeth. Not enough optics. And an enraged stare that was so far from the normally chipper cheerleader bird.

“Uh—Ch—Chica?” Bonnie said, aware of Danny shifting behind his arm. “You…feeling okay?”

And, dear Creator, she had _more_ teeth than just the ones he could see at first. And they were all razor sharp, and thick claws where her fingers should be. With a deadly, vibrating hissing noise, she rose so she could turn and slink toward them. It was horrifying, but then bad went to worse swifter than they duo was prepared for.

A frenzied, feverish red eye was locked on something behind him, and that something was Danny.

* * *

Sighing a little, Mike arched his back and sat up from where he’d been lying eagle spread on the stage, his legs dangling over the tile.

“Another day, gang.” He called wearily, rubbing his face a little. A roll of his shoulder earned him a crack from it. Mike winced, hissing as Freddy wandered. A look of concern was evident even on the bear’s inhuman face. His eyelids were drawn down in unease, and his tone held as much.

“We’re closin’ early?” Freddy was used to routine. He had spent how many years following the same one. To close early was a…well, it wasn’t a good sign, that’s for sure.

“Yeah, big guy.” Mike admitted, realizing that what he had forgotten early was to warn Fazbear of this new change. Shit.

“Just on Wednesdays.” He assured quickly when Freddy shifted uncomfortably. “I know, I know it’s strange. But the extra hours off _should_ give us a break on the electricity bill.”

At least, that’s what he hoped.

“Ah.” Though the front character of the restaurant looked incredibly alarmed and uneasy, he took the news gracefully. Mike’s smile was sympathetic and warm.

“Don’t worry, Freddy. We can do it.” Mike didn’t even notice he was echoing Chica’s statement half a week ago. “Some sacrifices here can make all the difference tomorrow. Or next month.”

Even though, realistically, there might not BE next month.

Freddy nodded, and wandered off, head down. He was thinking.

Mike’s chest twanged in worry, but before he could address his friend, something else happened.

At first, he tried to ignore the sensation, though it caught him off guard. Once. Twice. Finally a bolt of electricity sizzled through the air and with an all-mighty crack, slammed into his spine.

He yelped and bolted off the stage, earning the combined look from Foxy, Freddy, and Chica.

“Ya’lright there lad? Been hittin’ the sauce has ya?” Foxy asked warily.

Mike just clutched his head and doubled over, stumbling into the chairs Chica had finished stacking.

“Mike!” Chica started to scold, but took a step back when their night guard lifted his head.

The golden glow covering the entire eye halted them all in their tracks.

“…son?” Freddy tried, though they all knew Mike could no longer hear them.

“ _FIRE_.” Said Mike, in a strange deep voice that didn’t belong to him. Seconds later, the aged fire alarm system went off down the hall by the kitchens, and the robots understood with horrifying clarity. A cold dread hung over them all at this realization.

The pizzeria was in danger, and the guardian of the restaurant had woken.

* * *

_Why_ the hell did he ever take this job?

More importantly, why had his father ever taken a job remotely similar to this?

These thoughts and more scrambled in Danny’s mind like egg yolks, while his body did its own type of scrambling around one of the long prep counters. The clanging of pots and pans sounded behind him, this strange, malformed version of the robot chicken was horrifying, but kind of clumsy.

Then again, why bother being careful when nothing could stand up to you anyway? Danny kicked himself mentally for the thought, and skidded to a halt in front of a wall of flames. Now all the exits were blocked off, almost like she’d planned this. Bonnie had gone off to get help, except now the entrance from the hall was blocked, and the monstrous form of Chica was blocking the other exit into the dining hall. Help could be two swinging doors away, but Danny wouldn’t be able to yell loud enough, or move fast enough to live to see it.

“Shit…” The kid panted, spinning in place when he heard the thud of footfalls too close to his back.

The milky white of the rotted, freaky form of Chica’s left eye rolled in another direction while the red one stayed trained on him. Danny felt his heart drop from his throat into his stomach as the heat met his back, and Chica loomed ever closer, taking small slow steps as if to savor the moment.

This was it. God, he was going to die, without any answers and by one of the same things that probably killed his dad—

Just as Chica came down, her jaws too wide and ready for to sink into the first foolish thing that presented itself, a _fist_ came from seemingly nowhere and plowed up into her jaw. The uppercut sent her stumbling back, leaving room for a hulking animatronic to stomp between Danny and the nightmareish animatronic. Clutching her jaw, Chica shrieked and backed up even more. Danny was dimly aware that the bear must have walked through the wall of fire to get to them, and for some reason he couldn’t let that thought go. Maybe because the newcomer didn’t even look singed?

You’d have to be _a ghost_ or something to walk through fire, right?

Still, it had saved him. And that punch had been, in any other scenario, fucking _awesome_. Plus the way it planted itself between the offended nightmare robot and Danny was a rather positive sign. Danny dared to hope he’d make it out of here alive.

Chica had collected herself, her jaw click-clicking as she fixed whatever damage the golden bear’s punch had done to her. The hit had clearly been a warning, because his defender didn’t go after her. In fact, it backed up once, creating a shield with its thick arm to keep Chica from getting to her human target. Instantly she caught on and, obviously insulted by this protective stance, let out a rickety trill of aggression. Her words, though far from English, were an obvious threat, as if she could talk the bear into leaving her to her attack.

The walls shuddered as the strange, new Freddy model roared right back, wires sparking from its aged body as it shuffled into a better stance. The nightmare Chica hissed between those many rows of teeth, but between the horrifying roar and the defiant stance, she was clearly starting to have second thoughts. Slowly her single eye was trying to track the movements made by Danny’s sudden protector.

 ** _“GET. OUT._** ” Seethed the bear, and when the bird didn’t heed its warning, the tarnished suit raised a fist threateningly and bellowed the command again. This time Chica took a step back, but her beady eye landed on Danny’s, and it glinted wickedly. Fear threatened to stop his heart cold in his chest, and somehow the many toothed robot seemed to pick up on this. It made her gleeful and boosted her confidence.

Several wires sparked again, and the bear suit creaked like a mixture of old bones and rusted metal as it slammed its fist into the side of the wall. It promptly dented under the robot’s might as if it were an egg shell. This made Danny’s attacker pause and reconsider, not wanting to end up like that wall.

But there was only one Freddy robot, wasn’t there? At least, Danny hadn’t seen any others. Not in the back rooms, not tucked away. Underneath the mechanical, thunderous noise the golden model spoke with, Danny thought—for a fleeting instant—that _he knew_ part of that voice.

 ** _“GET OUT, NIGHTMARE!”_** Danny clapped his hands over his ears as the behemoth thundered again. This time it took a step forward. Chica actually flinched back. It was working!

**_“THE BOY IS NOT FOR YOU.”_ **

And when the model spoke a third time, Danny could finally put his finger on it. But then he hardly believed what he was hearing.

“… _Mr_. _Schmidt_?”

The strange Freddy model took another step; this one shook the remaining spiders from their cobwebs in the rafters. And finally, _finally_ , the monstrous visage of Chica turned and started off. She was slow, and constantly kept looking back over her shoulder as if maybe the bear had let its guard down. But glowing golden sockets tracked the fleeing animatronic until it was well behind the wall of fire, suddenly no more solid than a wisp of smoke. She vanished as quickly and suddenly as she had come, walking through a doorframe.

She was gone like a ghost.

Satisfied, the remaining animatronic turned and lowered its gaze. Every movement was either fluid, or jerky. There was something life-like, and then not quite there. As if the robot could turn off its programming, or it was a human trying to act like a robot.

Or…a robot trying to act like a human.

 _“FOLLOW. ME.”_ The voice, while booming, was no longer filled with a venomous rage. And it most definitely sounded like his boss, especially when Danny caught the hint of worry underneath the command. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

“You sound like Mr. Schmidt—but you _can’t_ be! Can you?” Danny rambled in anxiety as he scrambled to his feet. His boss was about two feet shorter, skinny as a rake and probably couldn’t hurt a fly. Danny scuttled after the giant as it heaved its great body toward a section of wall. Tongues of fire fluttered behind them, still engulfing both the exits.

“Unless he programmed you with his voice, but why haven’t I seen you before? Where were you _hiding_?” Danny panted, taking three steps for every of the bear’s one. “How are you _moving_ like that?!”

A hundred more questions swirled around his head like the smoke above him, and he coughed several times. The animatronic didn’t answer, merely followed a wall, and then stopped before it. After some consideration, it grabbed the steel table in its two great mitts and heaved the thing out of the way as if it were a blanket. The floor quivered as the table bounced harmlessly away.

“Wow!” Danny squeaked. Try as he might, he couldn’t find himself to be frightened of this new one. It was nothing like Bonnie, and he really didn’t even like Freddy that much. And, maybe it was because the animatronic—or whatever it was—had saved him, but Danny simply could not find himself all that terrified. He had a healthy dose of wariness around him, but the bear hadn’t so much as looked at him, let alone threatened him.

And right now, the fire in the kitchen was more a threat than this golden robot!

 _“STAND. BACK.”_ The robotic monstrosity advised, and for a second Danny wasn’t sure what it meant. Then he saw it take a stance, and lean its fist back, while facing the wall. And he knew, suddenly, and bolted out of the way of flying plaster and wood as the robot busted a hole in the wall.

 _“GO.”_ Danny looked like he wanted to hesitate, but one glance at that golden eyed stare and his stomach lurched. Programmed to sound like Mike or not, it was easily the scariest one he’d encountered so far. He obeyed quickly, finding himself in the dining hall which was only filled with smoke.

“Kid!” Came Bonnie’s excited call from somewhere, and then he was being ushered toward the front doors. “You’re okay, you made it!”

Danny was suddenly infinitely grateful for Bonnie, because shock had finally swept into his bones, and his knees shook. He wasn’t out of the pizzeria yet though, and he was dragged gently but firmly by the arm. Bonnie’s big purple paw didn’t let him go until a fireman had him.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“D-Danny…Danny Fitzgerald.” The teen managed as he was once again swept toward an ambulance. He didn’t even hear whatever it was the fireman responded with, he just watched over his shoulder at the smoking restaurant, waiting for the big golden animatronic to come out into the daylight.

It never did.

* * *

This was _not_ good.

Floating in place, the Marionette remained silent as the floor thudded. It was hanging out in the hall, undisturbed by the smoke and finishing its sweep of the restaurant. All souls were gone.

All except two, that is. One of which was making the floor thunder as it stomped toward the puppet.

 _“It seems we had an accident, my dear old friend.”_ His affectionate tone was directed at by the impressive, towering form of Golden, who stopped beside him. The entire action of motion took great effort on both Golden’s body and Mike Schmidt’s soul, which was in that yellowed mass somewhere. But Mike was completely unresponsive, the puppet knew. He was speaking only to his old friend.

“ _Seems we had more than a little accident, little buddy_.” Golden grunted as it looked around. _“Everyone else out?”_

 _“Of course.”_ The Marionette watched the flames bring down some plaster. _“ Nothing ever happens without a reason, though.”_

 _“Think it was…”_ Gold paused, speaking like this took a fair amount of exertion. _“…on purpose?”_

The Marionette was silent, eyes watching the bright flames of destruction dance.

 _“…I think we should keep a closer eye on that little day guard your Suit seems so intent on protecting.”_ The feather light tone carried an edge that could have sliced through the wall the puppet was staring at. It sounded lost in thought.

Golden knew better.

 _“Michael trusts him_.” Gold pointed out, referring to his Suit.

_“Michael is lead too often by his heart. I fear it will catch up to us all someday.”_

Gold nodded, and they began to move away from the fire as strange adults clambered in and began dousing the tongues of fire in water. They explicitly ignored the Marionette and Golden for some reason.

 _“It’ll end in trouble.”_ Gold warned _. “I know the way you think, little buddy.”_

_“I’m not completely heartless, you know.” _

Golden rumbled and eyed the Puppet for a beat.

 _“Don’t you lie.”_ The phantom visage of the hulking animatronic said in that deep growl. It wasn’t necessarily an angry growl, Golden was just only capable _of_ growling. It wasn’t his fault.

The puppet seemed amused by this comment, but went on instead of poking the bear.

 _“Ah, yes. But, my dear friend_ ,” Black fingers patted the thick yellow arm gently. _“The rules have been broken. The door has been opened, as you yourself just found out. You and I soon must camouflage again to survive the night.”_

The fire was dying, but a new one was being kindled, and all of the Marionette’s deadly fury was rising with it. With a nod, the Marionette watched Gold head for the exit, but spoke to itself softly,

_“Unfortunately for our Day Guard, dismantling a person is sometimes a necessity.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love working on this story, and I appreciate each and every kudos/comment. No matter what, I will finish this. Thank you so much, reader.


	6. Fredbear's Diner and the Open Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *A medic prefers self-preservation  
> *Don't take any wooden nickels  
> *Chasing ghosts  
> *Gold shows Mike tragedy at the diner

**ACT 1**

**  
Chapter 6. Fredbear’s Diner and the Open Door**

Mike stumbled through the double doors, smoke billowing up over his back.

He jerked to a halt only a few feet away—but by now the fire was contained and in the middle of the restaurant anyway. The world spun, and his bones ached and his vision was swimming something awful. But that was hard to tell if it was because of the fire or because of the ethereal, Gold’s residual effects on his body. The danger was gone, and with it when the ancient force known only as Golden Freddy. Unable to deny this body any longer, Mike spent several minutes with his palms braced on his knees, doubled over and coughing up a storm as his body cashed checks Gold had written while saving Danny.

Something approached him—no, _two_ someones approached him. But the EMT took one look at Freddy’s predator stare and—since Mike wasn’t actively _dying_ on the ground—took a step back and allowed the bear to get to the night guard first. Because you just can’t turn off self-preservation, and there no one Mike knew who came out on top of one of the bear’s glars.

“Mike—“ Freddy started, a boney hand waved his words away. Despite this, Fred put a massive paw at the night guard’s back and steadied him when he swayed dangerously.

“I’m okay!” A pause for some more coughing, “I’mma’okay.” It was little more than a wheeze, and despite his words he didn’t protest all that much when Freddy wordlessly scooped him up. He did make a noise, but for the most part let himself be carried like he weighed no more than a bag of flour.

“Thanks, big guy.” Mike breathed, because as okay as he was, walking was still a chore. Freddy shot him a concerned look, and unceremoniously dropped him to sit on the tailgate of one of the fire trucks.

“M’okay—“ He repeated again tiredly, and finally looked up. He sucked in all the clean air he could, quickly looking around to make sure everyone was present and accounted for. There were a lot of people, cars, trucks and ambulances. He thought he could see a pair of purple ears, but he was too exhausted to focus his eyes that far away.

“Freddy—staff meeting.” Mike croaked, because he couldn’t shout in this state. “C-Call a staff meeting.” He _needed_ to know if everyone was okay, he couldn’t fail at his job.

Freddy threw the young man a concerned look. Distantly, Mike recalled it was roughly the same look his Dad had given him when Mike had flew over the handlebars of his bike and onto the cement steps when he was nine. But ultimately, he did as the kid asked. If only because Fazbear knew Mike wouldn’t let anyone fuss over him until the night guard was sure no one _else_ needed fussing over.

The bear raised his volume and bellowed the short demand, voice thundering over the sirens, the hoses, and the firemen. It was shot, it was loud, and it caused several people to jump. Noone expected to see the robots working outside the building, but here they stood anyway. And active. Freddy’s call had turned more than a few heads.

But it worked.

People simply got out of the way when those giant robots started heading for one spot. Mike exhaled in heavy-hearted relief as his coworkers—his friends—all ambled toward him and Freddy. Chica was first, Foxy at her left. His shoulder was a bit singed, but nothing that noticeable, especially not with the rest of his suit. BalloonBoy appeared between the fox’s legs, looking a bit overwhelmed, and Mike didn’t blame him. He looked fine, and hurried to take shelter behind the safety of Mike’s legs, which hung over the tailgate. Bonnie and Danny appeared on Fred’s left, the kid also looking visibly shaken and sticking behind Bonnie’s shoulder—no doubt he had hesitated at the initial call from Freddy, but Bonnie had probably dragged him along anyway. It was out of the routine to have Danny working on the weekday, but Mike was glad the kid had gotten out alright. In fact, everyone present seemed alright.

That just left one coworker unaccounted for…

And then, last but not least, Mike blinked as he felt a chilling, subtle shift in the air. Judging by Danny’s already ashen face going paler by the second, he had seen the large gift box just.

 _Appear_. Out of nowhere, at the night guard’s right side.

“Good.” Mike relaxed, giving the present box a friendly pat as a medic with a backbone came up to him, hauling an oxygen tank.

BB gave a nervous, spooked ‘Hello?’ at the paramedic working on Mike. The man spotted the bot, did a double take and gave a nervous look between it and his patient.

“Sir…” went the man, but Mike shook his head and pulled the oxygen mask away long enough to go,

“He’s fine, he can stay.” Mike waved the relived looking robot boy over, who scurried under the gurney like it was a desk and refused to budge. Mike smiled as the rest of the gang crowded around him, if only because their optics were worriedly trained on him like he might burst into flames at any moment.

“Am I gonna live, then?” Mike asked, so the robots could hear the answer.

“Well, yes.” The dark haired man started. “But, but I really think you should come to the hospital for further examination, Mr…?”

“Call me Mike. Ah, but, no. Sorry, it’s not you.” He rushed to explain, best he could. “I’m the night guard, I have to stay here. I promise I FEEL fine, or I will soon.”

The EMT looked like he wanted to point out that it was in fact, day time, but one look at Fazbear and he seemed to think better of it.

“There’s some paperwork you need to fill out since you refuse the hospital. But other than that, you’re free to go, Mike.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

* * *

Night fell on the pizzeria.

Mike waved goodbye to the last of the cleaning crew, feeling bad for them. They had put in so much overtime and he appreciated it. Unfortunately, what damage the fire had done wasn’t going to be fixed with some spongy water and a little paint, which is all the cleaning crew was prepared for. Well _that_ and how to get rid of bloodstains, but bleach wouldn’t cover the holes in the wall any better than paint, so that point was mute.

Wearily, the night guard pushed himself to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. Things were going from bad to worse like a mudslide in a rainstorm, and Mike wasn’t really prepared for any of this. He turned the corner into his office and was surprised to find the Puppet’s box open.

“You okay?” He asked, because the slender animatronic looked like it was getting ready for something.

_‘I am afraid I must disappear for a while, night guard.’_

“Disappear?” Mike parroted, dropping into his rolly chair and groaning.

_‘Yes. I will only be gone a day or so. There is something I must take care of…on the other side of the door.’_

“…care to explain what that is? You sound worried.” Which was rare. The Marionette hardly ever put any inflection into its tone. And when it did, it was usually sarcasm or anger.

And there was that ‘door’ comment again. Mike was starting to think the pizzeria was just as haunted as the robot’s had once been. Or, in Mari’s and Mike’s case, still _were_. Did Gold count as a haunting? Mike puzzled to himself briefly.

_‘Not yet. I’m hoping there won’t be a need to. That I am just…being paranoid.’_

“Ah.” Mike was too tired to argue. “Well, have fun Mari. Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

The puppet paused mid action, its present box lid hovering above its box. It was rare to see Mari closing its box without being inside of it. Wherever the puppet was going, it was leaving the box behind. Strange.

_‘Why would I take a wooden monetary coin? We only accept gold tokens at Fazbear’s pizzeria.’_

“No—it’s a—I mean,” Mike trailed off in soft laughter at the bewildered look in his best friend’s eyes. “It’s just an expression, Mari. It means ‘be safe.’”

 _‘Ah.’_ The puppet had picked up some of Michael’s speech, but other phrases were still alien to it, it seemed. _‘In that case, please do not take any wooden nickels either, my dear night guard.’_

Mike smiled. “Will do. You sure you won’t tell me where you’re going? What if you need help?” He worried. Though that seemed futile, the puppet wasn’t exactly something you worried about. Unless it was to worry about if it was coming after _you_.

Mari paused only once more, holding up a spider-leg thin finger at a slight crook. “ _Remember_ , _a very little key can open very heavy doors.’_

‘Guess that’s a no, then.” Mike mumbled, a little disappointed.

The puppet twisted and floated out into the hall. When Mike pushed his chair over and leaned round the corner, there was nothing there at all. Rubbing his cheek, Mike thought over this development curiously.

Doors.

* * *

“Do they know what started it?”

Mike turned to look at Danny, who walked in with Bonnie on his heels. It was nearing eleven swiftly, and Mike was bone tired. No rest for the wicked though, as he’d cheerfully told a fretting Fazbear when the bear tried to shoo him to get some rest. So Mike and Freddy were in the kitchen, and so far the only ones allowed after the firemen cleared the building. As instructed, Danny and Bonnie hung near the threshold.

“Not yet. Wasn’t arson, otherwise it wouldn’t have gone out so quick? I guess.” Mike shrugged and watched Freddy lift a table easily and put it back in place.

“… _we_ might know.” That was Bonnie, who looked down when Danny hissed the rabbit’s name with a frightened look. The bunny’s ears shot straight up. “What! Listen bucko, rule number one here: we don’t keep secrets from each other!”

“Well, _that_ isn’t entirely true but for now I’ll agree with Bon.” Mike said dryly, thinking of the tangled mess of mysteries that was his first week here. It seemed so long ago, years instead of months.

“What did ya see?” Fred grunted as he turned around, watching his best friend and the day guard curiously.

“It was like this…it was Chica.” Bonnie’s voice lowered considerably, unwilling to accuse their resident chicken when he wasn’t even sure it WAS her. “But it _wasn’t_ …Chica. You get it?”

Mike and Fred shared bewildered looks.

“No.” They said in unison. Then Freddy gave the rabbit a worried look, “You get ash in yer main frame, buddy? Clogged up yer optics maybe?”

“No!” The rabbit huffed. “You explain it then, Danny.”

“She—it—I don’t know! Monster Chica attacked me, Mr. Schmidt.” Danny ducked his head, wincing at the memories. That _monstrosity_ had been horrifying. It certainly took a lot of the fear factor away from the main cast Danny worked with on a daily basis.

“When that big golden Freddy model showed up, he was the only thing that drove it off!” Danny finally managed.

Mike grinned sheepishly at the mention of his other side. “Uh, that’s—good for him! He’s like…a _security measure_ we take. Just in case, you know. For emergencies.”

Fazbear snorted, but covered it up pushing some debris out of the aisle way.

“Can’t you ask that one then?” Danny pleaded, and Mike winced this time.

“Sorry, kiddo. He’s not like…the normal AI’s here. He can’t _talk_.” Which wasn’t necessarily a total lie. Mike dutifully ignored Fazbear’s amused, knowing glance and busied himself with sweeping some ash into a dustpan. Danny nodded, still looking troubled.

“Teeth, claws,” Danny shuddered, “ _So_ many teeth, and her fingers were like drill spikes they were so sharp—and, and she only had one eye, and it was red! And she was taller than the other Chica, that much I’m certain of.”

“Alright.” Mike said slowly, recalling the terrifying creature the Marionette had turned into a few days back. Remembering his and the puppet’s conversation about nightmares as well, that was barely 24 hours ago. They had pieces of the puzzle, but no idea what the final image looked like.

What else was new?

“Let’s say you really did see this…” Mike was clearly loathe to say it but finally, “ _Nightmare_ Chica. Where did she go?”

Mike and Freddy had seen the real one. Chica hadn’t even been in the kitchen when Goldren Freddy reacted to the fire.

By that logic, there had to be _two_ of them running around, Mike thought grimly. One look at Fred told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

This time, Bonnie and Danny’s glances at each other were less than favorable. They spoke up at once, each eager kid trying to tell the end to the story first. Mike and Fred both looked a little amused at this, but remained patiently silent.

“Well, that’s the thing—“

“After she was chased off--

 _“I_ didn’t see it but the kid said—“

“She vanished!!” Danny threw his hands out to show the weight of the situation.

“Vanished…? As in, what, poof?” Mike asked, trying his very best not to sound incredulous.

“Well, nooo.” Danny shifted on his feet nervously. “I mean, there was a lot of smoke but I’m sure it saw it. Nightmare Chica walked over the threshold and then I just couldn’t see her anymore. She was gone. Like a _ghost_.”

Mike brow furrowed. He was right. Bad to worse.What came after worse?

“So we’ve got a violent, gigantic nightmare animatronic in the building and the damn thing can turn invisible?” Mike asked, holding his forehead.

Danny and Bonnie were both silent, knowing how foolish this sounded. Not even Gold could pull tricks off like that. That and he looked nothing like a Nightmare either.

“Uhm, that was all I wanted to say, sir.” Danny fidgeted. “Can, can I go home now?”

“Of course Danny. And thanks for being here, yeah?” Mike smiled. “That due diligence is much appreciated, but go get some rest.”

Danny nodded and scooted out of the room, waving the bunny to follow him. They usually hung out in the arcade until someone came to pick the day guard up.

Mike made sure the two were out of sight before he turned and leaned on what remained of the counter top. Not two feet away it was blackened, ruined. This day had been awful, for all of them.

He groaned and hid his face in his folded arms.

“Yal’right, son?” Freddy drawled as he ambled over. Mike moaned and leaned into his side, head still burrowed.

“Yes. No.” Mike lifted his head, a deep frown on his normally friendly face. “I don’t know. This is the last thing we needed, Fred. You and I both know that.”

“Ah-yep.” The bear stood casually beside him, but Mike was grateful for that towering presence. He was also glad Freddy was taking this in stride, even if a fire almost had engulfed his beloved restaurant. “An if there’s a Nightmare Chica running about, then suffice to say…” He trailed off, sounding uneasy.

“There’s more. Maybe.” Mike finished, nodding tiredly. “Okay. Before we go monster hunting…we _need_ to get the kitchen fixed, that much is for sure. We can’t open until then. What’s worse, we don’t have the money for this. I mean we _do_ , but it’s gunna drain our funds like awful.

 _And_ I can’t get this fixed if something else is just going to go wrong! Nightmare Chica already made it pretty clear her target isn’t just humans or robots. It’s like it’s the _pizzeria itself_ it wanted to get.” Mike shuddered to think what might have happened if Bonnie and Danny hadn’t interrupted the fire-bug bird. Gold might not have gotten there in time either, and someone else would have died because of this place and its ghosts. Damn.

That’s right, Gold.

“There _is_ one thing I want to try.” Mike finally muttered into his palm, eyes narrowing in determination. “Before I call in the fire brigade and panic, that is.” Mike saw Freddy looking around at the fire wrought kitchen and cut the bear off before he could comment. “…you know what I mean.” Freddy shrugged, and instead addressed the night guard’s first words.

“An’that is?”

“Danny brought up a good point. If Gold saw this thing—and _fought_ it—that means we’re looking at something possibly…Springtrap esque.” Mike made a frustrated noise. “You guys don’t just fight one another. Either that or a programming glitch.”

“Ain’t ever seen scary forms of us, son.” Freddy supplied helpfully, knowing Mike’s tendency to try and save the unsaveable. Spring was the only black mark on the young man’s record, and Fred knew that this bothered Mike to this day. “Whatever Bon, Daniel or Gold saw, I think ya might want to be careful with this one.”

“I know, I know. That’s why I’m gonna try and talk to Gold. See what he thinks about this.”

“Mari would know more bout talking to Gold then I would, son. Not often a _human_ is the suit, y’know. That’s usually our jobs.” Fazbear admitted as he went back to work. A human had to write down things, like what was missing and what would need to be replaced. But Freddy could come to Mike later and give him exact information on the damage he would need, with computer clarity. So Mike left the old bear to his work, reminding him to step carefully. There was little floor damage, but it never hurt to be careful.

Mike walked by Pirate’s Cove, pausing when he heard the curtain shift. That metal hook drew the curtain back and a muzzle poked out.

“Lad?”

“Hey Foxy.” Mike halted, giving the robot a smile. “How’s she doing?” Poor Chica. She had taken one look at her precious kitchen and went and hid in Foxy’s Cove, probably hugging BalloonBoy. No one blamed her. Foxy was on guard duty. There was no one better, in Mike’s opinion, and he was glad big brother Foxy was with Chica.

“…lil better.” Foxy admitted, but he moved out from behind his curtain and kept it closed, Mike noticed. The night guard felt a pang of sympathy for the poor thing.

“That rabbit wouldn’t tell us what happened—any reason for tha, Mikey?” Foxy asked, tilting his large head a bit.

“Yeah. It’ll only make things worse. That, and…we’re not really sure _what_ happened. Not yet.” Mike shook his head. “I’m gunna fix this though, I promise. You can tell Chica that.”

“Oh, we know all that, lad.” Foxy’s hook waved him off casually. “Ain’t a doubt in my mind you’ll take care’a us. Goes both ways, though, don’t you forget tha.”

Mike’s smile grew a little wider. “Thanks, Foxy.”

Some people had coworkers they were maybe casual friends with, didn’t even know, or worse, hated. But Mike? Mike had an altogether different group of coworkers whose loyalty could not be bought, and for that he was infinitely grateful.

“Listen, I’m going to stay here tonight. See if anything else happens.”

“Ah, just like old times lad?” Foxy’s yellow optics flashed playfully. “Mayhaps I go for a morning run on ya again when ya don’t check me Cove enough.” He teased, because Mike’s screams of terror were still one of Foxy’s favorite things to laugh at to this day.

Mike snorted. “Don’t do me any favors.” He paused. “Actually, yeah. Can you wake me up around three if I’m not up by then?”

“Tired, is ‘ya?”

“Something like that.” Mike agreed. In all honesty, without the puppet to help him he had only one idea of how to reach Gold. The same way Gold used to try and reach him, before they got…sealed together, or whatever the Marionette did to save the restaurant, the robots and take down King.

“No problem lad. Ya get some rest, trust ole Foxy to keep the hatches battened down.”

Mike smile was tired, but warm. “Aye aye, captain.”

* * *

With the Marionette out of the Guard room, the little place felt eerier and darker than Mike ever remembered it being. And that was a strange concept in it of itself, because it wasn’t so much that the Marionette’s presence was what let the light in. It was more like… when you were the darkest thing in the room, everything _else_ tended to look lighter just in comparison. And the puppet’s sleek body was so black Mike feared owls might collide with it if the puppet ever ventured outside the walls of the pizzeria. He felt the hairs along the nape of his neck prick a little, but when he turned there was nobody there, and nothing in the window.

Whatever it was, it put Mike at a little unease. He recalled this familiar sensation of faint dread, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Before stretching out on the little cot in the back of his office, Mike closed both doors for some privacy. Foxy knocking on them was loud enough to wake the dead, but that wasn’t what Mike was worried about. He was never sure what he looked like when Gold was awake and not dormant, and he didn’t want to scare the others. Or worse, a human, and then have to try and explain the impossible.

 _‘Yes, I’m the night guard but I’m also the guard for a suit called Gold Freddy that is only solid when he switches places with me and…please don’t call the cops.’_ He would get committed so fast his head would spin.

Lying supine on the little uncomfortable futon, Mike kept his legs straight and his fingertips stretching toward his feet, resting on either side of his torso. After about ten minutes of staring at the ceiling, Mike’s lips twisted into a thoughtful pout. He had zero idea on how to summon the spirit of Gold, but here went something.

Slowly, Mike counted back from 100 and focused on evening his breaths. Nice, and deep. He let his eyes flutter shut, blocking out the tired lights above. He did not toss, or turn, but kept himself still.

89…88…87…

He thought about how sleepy he was. How much he needed some sleep.

Then, as he felt his mind cave in and begin to relax, Mike turned those sluggish thoughts toward Gold. If he thought hard enough, if he called with his entire being—his _soul_ —then maybe?

76…75…74…7…4…7….3…

…

Mike sank deeper, deeper into sleep. He hadn’t meant to. But just as he started to dream, something came up from underneath his subconscious and settled beside him like an old friend.

Outside, Mike’s eyelashes fluttered a little, as REM sleep began.

_Ah, Michael._

The night guard shivered at the deep tone that reverberated through his entire core. He couldn’t open his mouth and speak, but his thoughts were answered like he was talking. There was no mistaking that voice. Whereas Marionette was light, emotionless and steady, Golden Freddy’s voice was deep, dark and commanding.

 _You’ve come to my little corner of your headspace. I must admit, a bear could get used to this comfort. Yer something special, Michael._ Gold said to him. Mike meant to nod, but he wasn’t sure he did it correctly. Either way, Gold continued on slowly, as if being very careful about picking his words.

_Yer a fine suit and I think I owe for all that you do here, at this little establishment that you and I guard._

Mike could not talk, but he had a fleeting thought that somehow Gold heard him again.

 _I know why you’re here, no need to explain. I’ll see what I can do to best explain this sticky situation we’ve found ourselves in._ _We have to start small though. Take this one step atta’time. No rest for the wicked, eh boy?_ Gold made an amused noise at his own joke, and Mike, if Mike could, would have smiled nervously. He was a little farther away from the tangled orb of golden light that hovered beside him lazily.

 _Do come closer, Michael._ A sad little chuckle. _I don’t bite._

_Not anymore, at least._

The gold glow seared over him, completely overwhelming his senses. Mike’s eyes burned, so he shut them. His ears rang, he clapped his hands over his ears. Just when it became too much, when Mike was sure he was going to explode—

It stopped.

When Mike opened his eyes, he was standing on a stage, overlooking a little restaurant with wide red booths. The tablecloths were stripped, the walls were gray and before him was a collection of tables. Mike tried moving, but his arms were sluggish and slow.

And they weren’t even _his_.

It took Mike a moment, but when he heard servos whining and saw the microphone in his golden paw, he understood what the situation was. He was looking through an animatronic’s eyes—Gold’s, if the bright color was anything to go by. This was…surreal.

What on earth was Gold trying to show him?

_Slow down there, Michael. Dreams only play out so fast._

Mike wanted almost desperately to get down from the stage and explore the restaurant, but he couldn’t. This whole…vision, dream, whatever, was following a script. He managed to turn his head to the right, almost having a mini-heart attack when he saw Springtrap just standing there. No, not Springtrap. This was what the golden bunny _used_ to look like. Mike felt a pang of regret for having lost the rabbit once more, but didn’t dwell on it. Right. Focus.

His turned to look away, scanning the room as Fredbear performed.

 _This was my diner, Michael. Ya like it?_ Gold’s tone sounded heart-achingly melancholy. The bear’s depression went bone deep into the human’s being, and Mike tried to nod. It was…little. And from a simpler time, apparently. Mike decided he liked it quite a lot. There were so many balloons, but he had a distinct feeling this was before the shiny BB was built.

_It was small, quaint. Jus me and Spring for a while. We were in the middle of expanding when the Accident happened. The new animatronics were only brought in a couple months ago but my, they were popular with the kids._

Gold must have heard or felt his confusion, because the bear chortled again at him, as if he were a very young child.

_The four robots you know, Michael. Your friends. They are much older than the second pizzeria. _

_You work in the third._

Mike’s mind reeled so bad he nearly woke up from the dream. He was kept anchored by Gold’s presence, which waited patiently as this new information set in.

There was another restaurant. There were more robots, and God knows what else.

_Springtrap, myself and my little buddy—the Puppet. Marionette, I think you call him—only we existed in the Diner until the original four came._

Suddenly a group of kids were walking up to the stage, to Fredbear and Spring. Well, Mike assumed they were teens; it was hard to tell their age because they were all wearing masks of his friends. Foxy, Freddy, Bonnie and Chica, each with plastic faces and holding onto a little figure. The figure was sobbing pathetically, and something about the tear stains was familiar.

_I do apologize for what happens next, Michael. But ya need to understand how this all started, and this is the only way that I can show yas._

Apologize for what? Mike wondered, but received no answer from the other side of his mind.

Voices echoed all around, the din of the restaurant turned to background noise as the group of kids got closer and closer.

“Hey guys! I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!” said the Foxy mask. Dread filled Mike as the teens lifted the small child up, higher and higher until the little thing was level with his— _Fedbear’s_ —muzzle. Mike became distantly aware of gears churring, the steady rhythmic open and close of the yellow bear’s maw as it moved to a beat it could not stop. Its programming was too _old_ ; it was forced to keep going as the child was forced closer.

Close…too close! Didn’t they know!? These robots weren’t as safe—if they put the kid any closer he might get—

Mike let out a silent scream as the child slipped, overbalanced and his head vanished under the black nose. Before anything else could happen, gears churred and the animatronic did what it had always done. It followed its programming.

And it closed its mouth.

Though Mike could not feel, he could sense. Gold’s mouth stopped working, most likely because thick, sticky blood had clogged into its delicate inner workings and gotten the jaw mechanism stuck. Try as he might, Mike could not get the mouth to open. He _could_ stare forward in horror, unable to look for Spring, unable but do anything but stand there as a young boy’s life leaked out into the animatronic he was in.

From across the room, as the human screams started, Mike became aware of a familiar present box. The diner was so small; the prize corner was in the dining hall.

_I think that’s a long enough trip down Memory Lane for now, Michael._

_My little buddy was brought to awareness from death and fear._ Spindle fingers pushed open the lid and stared across the room at the goings on. It was calm and silent, its head tilting slowly. The porcelain face was bone white and brand new, and its painted smile had no purple streaks near it. Those tear stains would come later.

After the haunting started.

Mike closed his eyes, feeling the tear tracks pour down his own face. This child, he knew this child. Gold knew this child. Arthur. This was _Arthur_ hanging from Gold’s broken mouth.

_Puppet returned the favor by doing the same for me. He let me stick around though…that was a bit hard without a suit. We had to make due for many years, until you came along._

_I wanted to make things right, Michael._

Mike’s entire form was shaking. He wanted out, out out! Mercifully, Gold let his hold slip and the dream—no, the memory—began to fade out like a dying star. Mike felt sick to his stomach as he saw adults wielding drills jam them into the mouth of the animatronic while paramedics rushed to pull the body out as soon as the jaw was forced away.

Drills. Drills that looked like claws.

_I wanted to wake the child from his nightmares. You understand now, don’t you?_

The golden glow fluttered and withdrew. It was swiftly replaced by a sympathetic blackness. But Gold’s tired, ancient voice ran between Mike’s ears like the chime of a bell miles away. Echoing, but not fading fast enough.

_It was me._

Mike woke up, dried tears caked on his cheeks and the distinct sound of Foxy hammering on the other side of the door. Three am had come and gone. He also woke up with more questions than he had started with, and only half of the answer to his first question.

Now he knew about Gold…but where the heck did Nightmares come into this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly, Fredbear is the only animatronic of the diner that was never discovered and reused for the horror attraction in Five Nights at Freddy's 3. With Devil’s Spine done and explanations from this chapter, this is my reasoning for it. Gold is no longer a physical suit, but the Marionette wasn’t about to let his friend be lost to time. Chapter 6 complete! Only two chapters left…for this act. Just like exploring the Marionette’s POV, I really enjoyed working on Gold’s character more, even just a little bit to give us a sneak peak.


	7. A Very Small Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *You can't be a suit without playing all five nights  
> *Mike has a plan  
> *Nightmare Balloon Boy Enters the Game  
> *Red Light Green Light

**ACT I**

**  
Chapter 7. A Very Small Key**

It’s scary what can hide a smile.

The Marionette’s contorted form slithered over a wall lazily. Its fingers were longer than normal, its stripes had moved down off its wrist and pointy little teeth marred its usual black smile.

Adding teeth to its mouth gave off a distant look that the Marionette would need for the task ahead. It pushed out off the hallway, heading for a door. Faded, yellow wallpaper that was more popular in the 80’s crinkled under its movements. After a moment to collect itself, the puppet pushed the heavy wooden door open and looked over the threshold, into the tired looking room.

Digging into the day guard’s business had yielded no results. And unfortunately, upon the discovery that Nightmare Chica had gone after Daniel, this absolved the boy of any more suspicion from the Puppet. Though loathe to admit it, Golden had been right. Daniel had taken a job at Freddy’s for a different purpose, albeit an ill-fated one, perhaps. It had nothing to do with sabotage. That was left to the monsters created so long ago, by a child with no control and nothing but terror as a paintbrush.

Which lead the Marionette to its next conclusion and suspect, and not a happy one either. Dealing with a pesky human would still be immensely easy for it. Dealing with _this_ problem, well, that was going to be another story. And the puppet was getting too told for bedtime stories, sad to say.

The Marionette suddenly wished it had thought to tell Michael a better good-bye. Well. Couldn’t be fixed now.

It glanced once in the bedroom before slipping in, silent as a shadow.

Something moved on its left, a muzzle of teeth coming from the closet to attack the intruder.

The Marionette turned and casually ducked the swinging maw. Without a word, it took hold of the nightmare by its throat, slamming the much large monster brutally into the thin carpeting. The creature shrieked angrily, but the Marionette only let loose a hiss until the other animatronic’s noises slowed and halted.

 _‘I need to speak with that **Atrocity** you call a leader.’_ Metal bent from the deadly grip the puppet had on the pipeline throat of the thrashing monster. Its thin tongue snapped the air and orange eyes rolled helplessly as it finally slowed its movements with a creak of gears. There was only one thing the nightmares feared, and that was termination.

The Marionette shoved off the now submissive beast and alighted on the dresser. It followed the golden gaze toward the bed, but the puppet snarled softly.

‘ _Not that one. The other one. Get him out here. NOW!’_

At that sudden bark, the robotic monster scrambled out of its crouched pose and lumbered for the door opposite the one the Marionette had entered.

A heavy, wide flashlight rolled around the floor when its exposed metal feet knocked into it.

The Marionette heard the noise and paused to watch it until it bumped against the dresser stand, its flickering light illuminating under the bed. The light was not visible on the other side; something blocked it from passing through. In the back of its mind, the puppet felt the stir of its child as the Marionette turned their eyes to the familiar flashlight. Shaken and afraid, Arthur was sticking impossibly close to his guardian’s inner self and the puppet could not find any fault in this. The Puppet allowed the crying child to hug it from behind, hiding in its black back. Good for Arthur, it seemed the Nightmares were hiding for the time being, more so out of fear of the puppet than anything else.

But accidents _will_ happen when you have a lot of teeth. Arthur knew that better than anyone.

The puppet turned its gaze from the old bed cloth, listening to the sound of footsteps that were too heavy and slow to be that hasty fox. The Marionette was glad to have found the fox though, because it really had always been the fastest. That, and if any creature would be intimidated by the Marionette’s presence, it _would_ be the one who would forever hide in the closet, waiting to jump out and….scare someone.

Deep within its core, Arthur’s weary, frightened soul gave the vocal equivalent to a whimper at the reminder of the fox and what used to hide behind its plastic, toothy smile. The puppet spared a second to soothe the poor soul, almost tender in its gestures until the Marionette noticed movement by the door.

Here we go.

Too red orbs glinted from the black, just over the threshold. Their white centers were ablaze with something far beyond the realm of human imagination, crossing over quickly into the black space of human emotions we tend to ignore in ourselves. Just because something was dark didn’t make it evil; but this was not the case of the creature that stepped slowly into the bedroom.

This was dark. And it was malevolence on feet.

 _‘You’ve been up no good, Nightmare.’_ The puppet whispered silkily as it slid down from the dresser, silent as a snake. Inside the Marionette, Arthur trembled as the vile, demonic result of his dying imagination grew ever closer. Nightmare eyed the puppet’s odd, grotesque form up and down.

 _‘UP TO NO GOOD HAVE I? I HAVE DONE NOTHING.’_ Its voice thundered, a constant angry thrum. Nightmare stopped its approach, black shadows masking most of its frame from prying eyes.

 _‘You’ve been opening doors.’_ Marionette accused.

_‘YOU CAN’T GIVE THAT STUPID YELLOW WRECK A NEW SUIT AND NOT EXPECT ME IGNORE THAT.’ Nightmare thundered and raised a fist. ‘YOU ARE **DONE** GETTING MORE CHANCES. IT IS **MY** TURN!’_

_‘Michael has nothing to do with our deal, you overgrown stuffed animal.’_ But at these words, Nightmare chuckled, and it’s a terrifying noise.

 _‘YOU CALL THE SUIT BY ITS NAME. THAT’S INTERESTING. DO YOU LIKE GOLD’S SUIT? I THOUGHT WE DIDN’T LIKE ANY ADULTS.’_ The Marionette didn’t dignify that with a response, but its silence said it all.

_‘LITTLE MICHAEL. HE CAN’T BE A SUIT WITHOUT GOING THROUGH ALL FIVE NIGHTS, PUPPET. WASN’T **THAT** OUR DEAL?’_

The Marionette’s smile did not move, but it fell briefly silent, cursing. It had forgotten about that minor problem. Honestly, it had been so long ago too. Arthur’s five nights had long been up, and the child and the puppet had sealed themselves together and returned to the restaurant when the children had gone missing. The Marionette hadn’t meant to be gone so long, and Arthur with it. When it had given life to the other souls, it had neglected the Nightmares but given Arthur something he needed.

A family.

Now, all of that could be taken away because Nightmare decided to take offense to the new night guard.

_‘You were the one who let Nightmare Chica through. You knew what she would do.’_

_‘FOR A BIRD, SHE’S RATHER STUPID, ISN’T SHE? THE FOOLS ARE ALL THE SAME. BESIDES…THE DEAL WAS: I MUST STAY HERE IN THIS PLANE AND THAT STUPID YELLOW COPYCAT ON THE OTHER. YOU NEVER SAID THE OTHER NIGHTMARES COULDN’T…WANDER.’_

Another pause from the Marionette, having been caught again. Damn.

‘YOU CAN’T BLAME THEM. IT’S BEEN AGES SINCE THEY HAD A SOUL TO PLAY WITH. _I KNEW IF SOMETHING ENDAGERED YOUR PRECIOUS NIGHT GUARD YOU WOULD COME RUNNING, YOU STUPID TOY._ ’

But Nightmare wasn’t finished, and his temper was growing by the second. From sparks to a wildfire, to a volcano ready to erupt. The puppet tensed, some deep instinct of self-preservation stirring in its mind.

_‘I’VE NOTICED WHAT’S HAPPENING TO YOU, YOU LITTLE BRAT. YOU’VE OUTLIVED YOUR USEFULNESS. I WANT THE BOY, AND YOU’RE GETTING OLD. IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO BE DECOMMISSIONED. DISMANTLED, AND…_

**_DE- STROYED.’_ **

Nightmare’s foot found the flashlight and came down on it, hard. The light flickered once before dying out, casting the room in something darker than black had ever been.

_‘YOU CAN’T DANGLE MEAT ABOVE A BEAST AND NOT EXPECT IT TO **BITE** BACK.’_

Before the Marionette could respond, Nightmare lunged with a bone chilling roar. The puppet tensed and sprung in turn, unwilling to go down without a fight.

It’s scary what can hide a smile.

* * *

Back in the real world, blissfully unaware in the restaurant Mike sat in his chair in front of his desk. It had been a full day, and not a word from the Marionette. The restaurant was closed for the time being, and being worked on during the day. It was a little after ten right now, and the sun had set along ago in the chilly fall season. Wind howled outside, and the old gnarly trees surrounding the property creaked ominously, but Mike paid no attention. He also tried to ignore how quiet and empty it was without the puppet hanging around. It was only an hour before he found himself unable to stand the silence any longer.

With the new information Gold had given him, but still so much left unknown, Mike was on edge. More than ever he wished he had gotten more information from Mari before it had up and left. Mike wiped his hands nervously on his jeans as he stood up and headed for the dining hall.

“Guys, listen, we need to—Danny?” Mike halted in surprise. “You’re still here? Everything okay?”

The teen in question shifted nervously beside the purple rabbit. You hardly saw the two of them apart lately, which was kind of cute. It reminded Mike of him and Freddy, so he didn’t really see a problem with it.

“I was just…though I’d stick around and help if, if that was alright.”

“Uh…yeah. It’s fine.” Mike said distantly, his mind jumping ahead several steps.

“Ah’know that look.” Fazbear commented from beside the table he was folding up. The crew needed all the space they could get by the kitchen to fix it properly. “Mike’s comin’ up one of them plans of his.”

“I thought I smelled smoke.” Bonnie teased with a cackle, earning a dirty look from Chica.

“Care ta fill us in, lad?” Foxy asked calmly when Mike didn’t answer. The night guard’s faraway look faded and he blinked a few times. When he realized they were all looking at him, he smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“Freddy, you and Chica stay here and work on clean up. The Closed sign is up, but turn anyone away unless they’ve got a badge or are, like, dying. Got it? Great.” Mike smiled when he saw them nod seriously.

“We’ll be back.”

“You be careful, son.” Freddy called out. “You two take care of Mike and Daniel, now.” He warned to Bonnie and Foxy. Foxy nodded, his jaw swinging, and Bon just saluted playfully.

“Awh, aren’t I always?” Mike asked with a sweep of his arms and a shrug as he backed up.

“Why does he always ask tha?” Foxy scoffed to Bonnie behind his hook, looking bothered. “Like the answers ever any different besides ‘ _no_ , _ya bloody **aint**.”_

“I heard that, Captain.” Mike called over his shoulder, tone pleasant and friendly as usual. There was a fraction of tightness to it, because Mike believed the best medicine to any ill will was fun.

“Just a lil observation, Mikey.” Foxy tossed out with a sheepish inflection, his ears bobbing from side to side. Bonnie sniggered.

Mike rolled his eyes fondly as he headed for the west wing. “Whatever, c’mon you three.”

“Me too?” Danny squawked nervously.

“You heard the boss!” Bonnie chirped, pushing his favorite human in front of him with a big flat paw. Danny yipped and glared at the towering rabbit. Mike ignored them both.

“Yup, you too Danny. I need all hands on deck for this, and since _you_ saw a Nightmare already, you’re one who knows the most about them.”

Danny gulped, but scrambled along, walking between the pirate and the rabbit. Well, he didn’t like the sound of that. Thought it seemed a stretch to assume Mike would use him as bait, this thought didn’t help Danny’s nerves like you would think it might. Mike was in front, and he felt a bit safer this way. Not that Mr. Schmidt was particularly physically threatening—actually, a kitten might have more of a chance of doing some damage—but he did have that cool security system lurking around. If Mike needed to, he would just use Gold again, wouldn’t he? Keeping this in mind, Danny followed them down the darkened hall.

“What exactly is it that we’re looking for, Bambi?” Bonnie finally asked when they made it to their apparent destination, the kitchen. It was weird not being able to use the swinging doors, but now the kitchen only had one safe exit.

“Clues, Bon.” Mike said absently as he opened a kitchen drawer. Nothing. “Anything to give us some more insight on those Nightmares. We know what she did here, but what about where she came from? Where she went. We know there’s a Chica one. Maybe she could lead us to the others.”

“ _Others_?! You want to find more of them?” Danny yelped before he could find his manners. His look clearly asked Mike if he was crazy. But the kid shrank at Foxy’s critical look, while Bonnie’s was a bit more sympathetic.

“It’s the only way to figure out what’s behind this mess.” Mike stood up from behind a scorched counter, hands on his hips. “Mari’s got a Nightmare side too, as you found out. But his acted differently.”

“He still terrified me!”

“Yes, but he didn’t harm you.” Mike said. “You said that other Chica definitely did try to.”

“Several times.” Danny remembered with a hard, nervous swallow. “So what?”

“So, they’re different. That means something. Because if they’re being controlled, either they’re programmed differently, or they’re not being controlled at all. And we’ve got more robots on our hands. That can think.” Mike pulled back from the walk in freezer, finding nothing of interest.

“Or _ghosts_.”

“Ghosts?” This earned Bonnie a confused look from the night guard. The bunny shrugged best he could, metal shoulders sliding with twin creaks of noise

“All I’m saying is, _we_ can’t walk through doors and vanish. But Nightmare Chica sure did an awesome job at it.”

“So…so keep eye out for ghosts.” Danny suggested with an anxious little noise.

“That could be a problem.” Mike admitted as he walked out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Why’s tha, lad?” Foxy asked.

“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts I guess.” Mike said. “At night? I’m a _little_ more open minded.”

“I should hope so,” Foxy grunted grimly. “Ya work wit’one after all.”

This comment made Mike pause mid-thought. Thankfully, he did not pause mid-stride. “You’re right. …The other kids passed on, and the only ghost I work with is Arthur.”

Foxy looked visibly bothered by the name of the small child who was responsible for their creation. Well, _indirectly_. Arthur may not have murdered anyone like the man in purple, but the Marionette had tied the souls to the animatronics. So maybe the Puppet wasn’t as much to blame as Arthur was. And even then, he was just a little kid! It was just a sad loneliness and crushing desperation to have company again that caused the child to wish for friends. Everyone knew what happened next.

The kids stayed behind only out of worry for their robot suits, who were getting blamed by King for murdering the night guards. The ‘curse’ had only been cracked at by Mike, by the puppet that needed to find a way to end what it had inadvertently started. The night guard in the other restaurant—not Fredbear’s Diner, the one the Toy models were at—had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time when the Mangle snapped and bit. Mangle hadn’t done it on purpose.

At the end of the day, this whole entire mess was all caused by someone who was just trying to do their job.

The children moved on, then Springtrap’s haunted form was laid to rest only a month ago. Less, even. With 6 souls gone, the murderer put down, and Gold successfully passed on to Mike, that left…

“Arthur…” Mike halted, and Danny narrowly avoided colliding with his boss’ back. “And Arthur _didn’t_ move on—Foxy, that’s it! You’re a genius!”

The fox’s jaw shut with a surprised click. “Aye! …wut be it?” He muttered to Danny, who shrugged.

“How old is Mari, Foxy?” Mike spun, asking the fox eagerly. “Do you know?”

“Erh, can’t say as I do, lad. The black devil was around in the establishment long before us four was activated.” Foxy said, to the tune of Bon’s little nod of agreement.

Right, Mike knew that. Gold had told him as much.

“Okay, well. Even without a number, he’s _old_. Like, easily almost thirty, even forty years!”

“What does this have to do with the Nightmares, Mr. Schmidt?” Danny asked, echoing the fox’s and rabbit’s confusion.

“The puppet is like Gold. Or at least, he’s headed there.” Mike held his arms out in triumph, because this made perfect sense to _him_.

“The security system?” Danny muttered in confusion, but was ignored.

“Ah don’ follow, matey.” Foxy ventured calmly, looking at Mike as if he’d suggested they use the _Red Fox_ for firewood.

“Yeah buster, explain!” Bonnie whined gently, not liking being out of the loop.

Mike shook his head, facing in frustration. “I’m not sure how to explain it yet. It’s just a feeling! But I think, I mean, he’s been around _so long_. He’s not a normal robot anymore; you said it yourself Foxy. Arthur is a ghost, and all ghosts have unfinished business. Whatever is keeping Arthur here, is keeping the puppet up and running.” Mike stopped and turned to his friends, pointing fingers. “Take Arthur away, and…” Mike winced and went on quickly.

“It’s the reason you guys are alive, it’s how he got me and Gold to join together in some weird…opposite suit-thing. The Marionette doesn’t hold all the strings, _Arthur_ does! It’s like, it’s like Arthur’s the _battery_ and the Puppet’s the _flashlight_. You can’t have light without batteries, and you can’t use batteries without something like a flashlight casing. And whether he knows it or not, I think his, his spirit or something is trying to pass on.” Mike slowed, a sad frown gracing his features as his looked down at his hands.

Discussing his best friend’s morality was depressing as hell. And it only got worse when Mike’s mind made a connection, making the night guard’s hands drop uselessly to his side in shock.

“ _That’s_ why Mari’s been slowing down.” He spoke softly, verbally feeling his way along. “That’s why the Nightmares are getting through doors…they’re both losing their powers.” Mike’s horrified blue eyes swiveled up to meet his coworkers, his friends, in growing dread.

“Guys…they’re _dying_.” Mike’s brow furrowed in concern. “Again, in Arthur’s case.”

“…what do we do?” Danny finally asked lowly.

Mike hadn’t even noticed his hands had closed into fists, or gold light flecked through his eyes. His gaze hardened, and he turned on his heel, storming down the hall.

“We help them, that’s what.”

“But, Mike—“ Rarely did Bonnie ever use the night guard’s name. “I don’t think Fred would like this…maybe we should look into it, and you stay here—“

“No. I’m not being talked out of this. I won’t make you guys come, though. But Mari and Arthur saved my life already. It’s time for me to return the favor.” Silence reigned, and Mike continued on his way, knowing he wouldn’t be stopped now. Bonny and Foxy stepped after Mike without hesitation. After a second, so did Danny. As Mike had thought once before, there are some loyalties that cannot be bought.

Which was good for him, because he had a sneaky suspicious that he was going to need all the help he could get.

* * *

After checking every threshold in the restaurant, the four found themselves no closer than before to their attempt to reach the Marionette and Arthur.

“Are you sure nightmare Chica walked through _this_ doorframe?”

“Positive.” Danny stressed, eyeing it nervously. It looked as ordinary as ever. Bonnie’s knuckles rapped against the beam support, but nothing happened.

“Maybe the way to the puppet and the kid is like…a actual door.”

“Aye, we gathered that already, rabbit.” Foxy complained, looking annoyed. Bonnie’s ears bobbed in irritation.

“No, no! I mean, don’t doors have knobs? Keys? Not all doors are just…open.” Bonnie spoke slowly. “You know?”

This made the night guard pause, squinting at the door way.

“Bonnie has a point.”

Bonnie shot a smug look at Foxy, but everyone paused when Mike headed for his office. Keys…Keys! The Marionette _had_ given him everything he needed to come find them. Where ever that was.

“A very little key…” He muttered, as he walked. Finally he stopped, watching BB wander out from under his desk where he often lurked. “Can open a very heavy door.”

Mike grinned in triumph down at the balloon blower.

“Hi?” said BB simply, wondering what Mike was up to now.

“You know how to find Marionette and Art, don’t you BB?”

“…hello.” The animatronic said slowly, nervously. Finally, it gave a shy nod.

“We need your help, BB. Arthur and Mari are in trouble, I need you to open the door for us. Please.”

BB looked troubled, though his painted face didn’t move, but he wouldn’t look Mike in the eye for a long while. And then the robot _changed_.

Bonnie, Foxy and Danny all skidded to a halt behind Mike just in time to witness the eerie transformation.

The squat, usually cheerful looking animatronic was a warped figure of itself. BB stared up at Mike, four rows of needlepoint teeth keeping its jaw from shutting correctly. It wasn’t so much a change as it was BB just…reforming various parts. But it was definitely magic, because fiber glass and plastic could not contort and stretch like that in reality. Mike swallowed nervously, staring at the long claws the robot sported. Shit, they were sharp.

“What the honey buns happened to BB!?” Bonnie squawked. “He looks ridiculous!”

“ _Hello_.” BB spoke out, and it was with a deeper voice that reverberated against them. It ended up sending shivers up spines. Even Foxy and Bonnie winced at the creepy, sudden bass.

“…annnd less ridiculous.” Bonnie admitted softly.       

“Okay, so.” Mike started, trying to not to stare too much, “Just like Mari, you can change too. But there’s an entirely different robot for Chica. Is that correct, BB?”

“ _Hi_.” The robot nodded, its smile gone in place of a maw that could have broken Mike’s wrist.

“Can you…can you find a way to open that door for us? The one the Marionette goes through?”

After some clear consideration, the little helium bot reluctantly nodded and turned for the East wing door, where Chica used to lurk.

“Those ‘hellos’ mean something other than hello?” Danny whispered to Bonnie, who shrugged.

“Sort of. You get used to it; you just have to listen hard enough, kid.” Bonnie pointed to one of his own towering ears as BB stopped just before the threshold to see better.

“This is the door?” Mike was busying asking Nightmare BB. “The entire time it was right here?”

“I dunno lad, the rabbit said that spooky form of Chica went through ‘nother one.” Foxy shrugged, metal feet clanking as he stepped into the guard room further. “Maybe…maybe it don’ matter the door. Jus’ the key.”

“Like a _skeleton_ key?”

“Not helping, Bon.” Danny moaned, looking pale.

“ _Hello_.” Said BB, looking at Foxy with that grave expression. Mike fought another shiver, but only because somewhere in there BB still seemed to exist. The Nightmare form hadn’t made him violent or wild. If anything, a sort of glum air hung around him, like he didn’t like this body. Mike couldn’t blame him.

Before anyone could say anything else, BalloonBoy drew up one long finger, held it just against the door frame, and dragged it down through the air.

Mike felt more than saw it, but he had an inkling that was only because of Gold. BB’s clawed finger had _caught_ something in the air, and as the finger sliced downward, the world seemed to tear like a cloth. The snag spread in a perfect line. A split second later everyone else could see it too, mostly because it had started spreading without BB’s prompt. He had only started it.

The tear let shafts of golden light through, sizzling through the air as the lines followed the door frame and completed the shape of the threshold entirely. When it was finished, the hallway was no longer there.

Well, it was. But it wasn’t the one from the pizzeria.

BB stepped back as Mike walked forward.

“Whoa…” He couldn’t keep the wonder from his voice, and he reached out a hand. His fingertips met the strange portal. The world shimmered around his hand once or twice, before settling down. His fingers tingled, but nothing else happened. They could cross through without a problem. BB stepped back, as if to make it clear he wasn’t going with them and they were going to have to find another way out.

“So we just…go through here? This is where Mari and Arthur are, BB?” Mike clarified once more, twisting to stare at the short bot.

Nightmare BB nodded quietly, but pointed to his wrist as if tapping the face of a clock.

“We have to go now or the door will close.” Mike verbalized the gesture, and was rewarded with another nod. “Okay…okay. Foxy, you stay here.”

“But—!”

“No buts, Captain!” Mike shot the frustrated looking robot a smile. “I love ya buddy, but if there’s more Nightmares in here, a bigger group will be an easier target. Besides, Freddy and Chica need you here. An you and I both know you can’t sneak very well.”

“Or at all.” Bon scoffed to Danny, who knew better than to grin.

Foxy growled a little, the noise more machine than animal. His ears were forced all the way back, and his tail switched as he lowered his large muzzle.

“Aye, lad.” Unwilling to snap at their night guard, especially after he voiced his worry, Foxy turned to Bonnie and shoved his hook at him menacingly. “ _One hair_ on the lad’s head gets hurt, rabbit, and you’ll be walking the plank!”

“Save your batteries, Foxy.” Bonnie waved his purple paw nonchalantly. “They’ll be fine! Now let’s go! I’ve never been out of the restaurant before!”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be out of this _reality_ , Bon.” Mike said doubtfully as he pushed his hand back into the portal.

“Even better.” The rabbit grinned, pleased at having found a loophole around the restaurant’s biggest rule.

“Batten down the hatches, Captain.” Mike called over his shoulder as he walked forward. “We’ll be back.”

“Aye, lad.” Foxy replied. He and BB watched the three of them, two humans and one robot, walk through the strange, shimmering curtain that split the worlds.

“Hi.”

Foxy looked down to see BB was back to normal. He gave an electronic sigh of exhaustion and exasperation. Granted, he couldn’t get tired but he could _feel_ it.

“Best go tell Fazbear, shall we?” Foxy grumbled as the portal faded. “Oh, he’s gunna lay an egg when he learns about this. Less’go.”

BalloonBoy didn’t respond—either his short voice clip or his light laughter. He followed behind the fox silently. This was no laughing matter anymore; he just hoped his friends would be okay. For once, the robot had the small inkling that Mike was getting in over his head.

 _Nothing_ good existed in Arthur’s mind anymore.

* * *

Mike’s life sometimes seemed to be more or less like _Night of the Living Dead_. Only ‘dead’ was replaced by ‘robots’ and ‘night’ was replaced by five of them.

Oddly enough, walking through the portal BB had created was nothing special. They were simply in the restaurant and then they were in a dimly lit room with no windows. It happened so suddenly, no one noticed the large square faded from existence, leaving them stuck wherever they had ended up. Though maybe that’s how magic was. More specifically, how the Marionette’s—or _Arthur’s_ —magic was. There was only enough of that strange force to get the job done, and it didn’t bother with fanfare, sparkles and all the stuff movies had gotten them used to seeing.

For some reason, Mike almost wished there had been something gaudy or frivolous during the trip into this world.

Looking into the hallway yielded little to no results. It was cramped and small, just like the room they were in. It looked the room of a house, maybe a closet, albeit a big one. If it was a bedroom, wouldn’t it have windows? Strange. Dark blue carpet crunched softly under Mike’s sneaker as he leaned out into the hall and looked around.

“Be careful Mr. Schmidt. It’s…it’s so dark.” Danny finally whispered toward his boss, hanging back behind him. His safety left when Mike started walking forward slowly.

“Don’t be afraid of the shadows, Danny.” Mike offered just as quiet as he edged out a little more. “That just means there’s a light shining somewhere. We need to find it.”

“Before something _else_ finds us.” Bonnie commented grimly as Mike stepped over the threshold.

“Thanks, Bon.” Mike snorted, but cut off the rabbit’s reply when he heard a noise.

“Stop,” He breathed, “Did you hear that?”

“No.” said Danny, who sounded out of breath despite standing stock still with the rest of them.

“Yeah.” Said Bonnie softly, his large ears stiff and focused. “….to your right. 2 o’clock.”

Mike looked to his right to far, staring at the little child sized chair. It was empty, and it sat beneath a window. Outside was a velvet night sky with speckles of stars. A measly, small source of light but light nonetheless. On either sides of the chair were two more doorways, but blackness prevented any of them from seeing what was in the rooms.

When Mike turned his gaze from the end of the hall, there was another faint scuffling sound, barely audible with Bonnie’s processors whirring like they were behind him.

Mike’s brain slammed into overdrive. They were standing still, and standing still meant an advantage over whoever it was moving, because moving gave away your position. Unless of course, the thing doing the moving _caught up_ to them. But the night guard didn’t earn his position for his winning smile, and he was an ace at spotting patterns. At the end of the day, _everything_ had a pattern.

And he was starting to figure this one out.

“Bon?” Mike breathed as softly as he dared, leaning back a little until he heard the click click of those massive ears. Bonnie couldn’t see the thing scuttling in the shadows either, but he didn’t need to. He could hear it, with much more clarity than the two humans in front of and behind him.

“Yeah?”

“On the count of three, wherever your ears tell you it is, look at it. And turn on your optic’s back lights.” Mike paused, teeth clenched tight as he craned his ears.

“Got it.”

“One…” Shuffle shuffle.

“Two…” Silence. Shuffle.

Shuffle—

“…. _three_!”

Bonnie’s floodlight eyes came on, and as if on cue the body dropped into a slumped, sitting position. It looked harmless enough, sitting in the bright circle cast by Bonnie’s optics. But they had all seen it move, and the jig was up. Its jaw hung wide, stout teeth glinting in the beams of Bonnie’s eyes. Mike glanced at that jaw and was instantly glad the rabbit didn’t need to blink. It looked just like BB’s.

“What…what is it?” Danny finally ventured. “How did you know it would freeze under the light?”

“Another robot?” Mike shrugged. “All of them do that. Uh, with some of the older models, it actually can cause damage. Foxy in particular…” Mike thought back to one of his first encounters with his friend when he was holding a flashlight. “Does _not_ like bright lights.”

“No we do not.” Bonnie clarified. “It’s one thing if we’re doing it. Another thing entirely if your aiming them at us. Freezes our systems. See?” Judging by the frozen, slouched little rabbit animatronic, this thing was somewhat related to the Fazbear animatronics.

“Is it, is it gunna hurt us?”

“I don’t think so…maybe. I mean. It’s so _small_. It looks like…” Mike sucked in all his air in surprise, eyes wide. “It looks like Springtrap.” They stood there, Bonnie and Danny arguably still in the dark, empty room that they had ended up in, and Mike one step away from being in the little narrow hall. He studied the crumpled robot doll closely, eyeing its torn features, its small stature. Only its ears would make it taller than BalloonBoy. If this thing attacked, Gold could have swallowed it whole, or ripped it apart just by grabbing and pulling.

Mike swallowed. Not that he liked violence, but Gold was, as Danny put it, a nice security measure. A just in case policy, if you will. Suddenly, Danny noticed something they others hadn’t.

“Mr. Schmidt. Mr Schmidt, it’s _looking_ at us.” Danny whispered from behind Bonnie. Bonnie’s illuminated eyes remained locked on the other bunny robot, but Mike’s moved to stare at the black orbs that served as the rabbit’s optics.

And so it was.

“Springtrap?” Mike said the name again, and this time an ear twitched. The eye lid plates narrowed. Mike tried to decipher this body language. Whatever this thing was, maybe it didn’t like its name. Or maybe that wasn’t its name.

“Move the light a little, Bonnie.” Mike said. “I want to see what he does.”

“Seriously? It might attack!” Bonnie’s voice box was on its lowest volume, the nearest thing to a whisper the animatronics could reach.

“And do what, knaw off your suit at the knee?” Mike hissed out the side of his mouth in exasperation. “Just do it, Bon!”

“Fine!” The beams of light rose off the little form.

Like a match had been struck under it, the yellow bunny sprung up and scampered into one of the darker rooms where Bonnie’s lights weren’t able to reach. Mike, Danny and Bonnie all shrieked a little bit and grabbed at one another, but soon relaxed when nothing else happened. Bonnie had the bright idea to aim the lights directly in front of them. If the thing bolted in front of them, hopefully the lights would stun it enough to stop it. Or at least slow it down.

Mike slowly relaxed his death grip on the rabbit’s arm.

“…think it’s gone?”

“N-no.” Danny choked out, unwilling to loosen his muscles yet.

“Bon, can you tell where it is at least?”

“Uh…eleven o clock? Maybe.” At the night guard’s look, Bonnie raised his arms in exasperation. “Don’t look at me! Why does the rabbit have to do all the work? I only have a layout of the restaurant, remember?” Bon gestured to their new surroundings.

“And, in case you hadn’t noticed, _Toto_ , we aren’t exactly in Kansas anymore.”

Mike frowned, but his friend was right. “How long will it take for you to build a map?”

“I need to see into all the rooms, Einstein. Until then I can only track noisy objects. If it’s behind a wall or too quiet, forget it.”

“Right. Well, we’ll make due.” Mike inhaled sharply and edged out again. “But keep your cameras on. As soon as you have a layout, tell me.”

“You’ll be the second to know.” Bon replied, accidentally lifting his floodlight gaze. The scampering got louder.

“Bon—!!” Danny yelped, ducking behind the rabbit as something lunged at Mike.

“Gyahh!!”

Mike went down, arms above face and waiting for teeth to sink in his arms, or chest or even his throat. He felt weight on his stomach though.

Nothing.

He peeked open an eye.

The little bugger sat on his chest, expression that could only be described as immensely pleased with itself. It chomped the air before Mike, making the panting night guard freeze, before it pushed off and scurried back onto its chair. It slouched over, jaw slack and eyes down.

No one moved for a second.

“…Mike? You okay?”

“I…I think so.” Mike managed, getting his shaking legs under him with help from Bonnie. The rabbit had trained his illuminated optics back on the small rabbit in the chair, and it stayed stock still. Sort of. Now that Mike looked, he could see its small optics watching them. Watching Bonnie.

“…it kind of looks like a stuffed toy like that.” Danny remarked carefully. “Y’know? All it did was…tackle you.”

“Yeah. Just a plushie, right?” Mike agreed, cocking his head in confusion. He had been ‘attacked’ by the thing, but it had just pushed off and hurried off. It wasn’t out of fear either. It just seemed bored when it realized the little stalking game was up.

“Looks like a _trap_ , if you ask me. Especially if you considered the bigger model. Plushtrap.” Bonnie grinned, “Though it _is_ nice to see another bunny.”

“Plushtrap…” This time, Mike saw its ear flick. Its eye plates pulled away from its optics, making it looked happier.

Now that he was in the hallway, Mike could see the taped X at the end of the long hall. He looked once more at the door ways, the empty rooms and the chair. Mike thought he heard a grandfather clock chime somewhere, or a dog’s bark. It was a distant sound, and Mike glanced warily at the hallway that stretched beyond the X on the floor.

This _was_ a house.

Something wiggled in the back of Mike’s brain.

Bonnie and Danny made noises when he moved, but the guard stopped in front of the chair and studied ‘Plushtrap’ quietly. The eyes were still moving, and this confirmed Mike’s suspicions.

“You weren’t affected by the lights at all, were you?” Mike frowned, tilting his head as he tried to find another reason for the strange behavior. His mind brought up Arthur, along with the way Plushtrap’s eyes had crinkled mischievously when he was forced to flop to the ground under the lights. It had been faking, like this was all one big joke.

Or a…prank.

Suddenly, and with a little crinkle of old fur, Plushtrap raised its head. It looked behind Mike at the X expectantly, before back up at the human. A game is always more fun when play correctly, after all.

“You were playing….right?” Mike searched his memories. “Like red light green light only…different. Your version.”

Again, the worn, yellowed rabbit peered at him with an impish, gaping smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left in this Act.


	8. The Marionette Says Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Life is but a Game, but even games have Nightmare modes  
> *Freddy has a file for days called 'Here We Go Again'  
> *Bonnie's ears save lives

**ACT I**  
  
Chapter 8. The Marionette Says Goodbye

“So what do we do with it?”

“Just play a game, I guess.” Bonnie ventured with a narrowed eye plate, his head tilted in confusion.

“We already played a game with it—“ Mike commented, hands on his hips. Plushtrap stared up at him with deceptively wide eyes. Mike didn’t buy it for a second, though he had to admit it was pretty cute. Maybe not harmless, but certainly cute.

“Yeah, and you lost.” Bonnie reminded Mike with a grin. Plushtrap made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snigger.

If the little thing was going to be a threat, Gold would have switched with him by now, Mike reasoned. Sometimes Gold reacted on a hair trigger, but at the end of the day the ghostly bear’s protectiveness was much appreciated by the night guard.

Mike frowned but ignored the bigger bunny for now. “We need to keep moving. And keep our eyes open. It’s dark, and I don’t think we should give away our position. That means lights off, Bon.”

“Awright.” After a moment, there was a click and the only light was through the high window above them. “Happy?”

“No, but we have to do it.” Was mike’s grim response. Let’s go, guys.”

They got four paces when Danny had his boss’s sleeve and was tugging quietly. “Mr. Schmidt, _it’s following us.”_

“Don’t look at it.” Mike whispered back, “Maybe it will get bored and go back to its chair.”

But the scampering noise across the carpet behind them did not let up. Bonnie twisted back once or twice to try and see it, but it was too dark. Plushtrap wasn’t on their heels, but the small rabbit was definitely keeping tabs on them.

That was the line where cute turned into sinister real quick. Undaunted, Mike edged further down the hall. He paused when they came to a corner, the hall branching off to a sharp left. He could hear the slow tock of a large clock. Perhaps a Grandfather clock, maybe? Like the one his parent’s used to have.

“…where’s the clock coming from, Bon?” Mike wasn’t about to take chances. But he had a feeling this was nothing more than a house. Or at the very least, laid out like a house.

“About nine o clock. It’s pretty close.” Those ears stopped whirring and Bonnie dropped his radar when he had his answer.

“I think…” Mike eyed the photos at eye level, but it was too dark to make out details. Just frames and shapes. “I think we’re in a house, guys.”

“Are all houses this dark?” Bonnie asked curiously as Plushtrap’s scuttling noise stopped.

“…only at night.” Mike realized, his stomach starting to drop. At night, nothing good ever happened.

At night, ghosts were real and animatronics came to life.

“Wonderful.” The night guard said with a soft sigh.

“W-what?” Danny whispered, still on edge.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

“Bonnie, you go first.” Danny tried.

“Like heck I will.”

Mike shook his head fondly as he leaned around the corner. There was the Grandfather clock on the same wall Mike was gripping, right where Bonnie had estimated. It was keeping him from seeing anything further down, but he _could_ see by way of the window that was across the entire hall. The ambling hallway stretched in two directions, straight and then hung a left. Mike thought he heard the sound of the door close, but he couldn’t be sure. He edged toward the very first door, a ways down the hall. Mike hesitated only once, because the hall he had chosen had no windows, and the darkness around the ceiling made it seem like a monster yawning with a pitch black mouth. He passed a little dresser and on top of that, a lamp that wouldn’t turn on.

“This place has a very ‘the abyss gazes also into you’ vibe to it, don’t you think?” Mike commented warily.

“It _looks_ like a normal house…are we sure we’re not trespassing on someone’s home? What if that portal dropped us off in the wrong place?” Danny worried from next to Bonnie.

Mike lifted his finger from the wall where he had been dragging it. An inch of dust at least came off on his fingertip. Faded, tacky wallpaper shone underneath the cleared line.

“I don’t think we have to worry about anybody being home.” He finally turned his attention toward the big, solid white door. With nobody home, why bother knocking?

Mike stared at the door, and took its handle. He twisted. He tugged.

The door did not open.

“Locked.” Bonnie clarified, having seen Mike’s little disappointed frown.

“If it’s locked, it must be important.” The night guard commented, more to himself than the other two.

“Or, maybe it’s just locked?” Bonnie drawled, trying to see down the end of the hall that went past the first door. Nothing.

It wasn’t ‘the end of the hall’ nothing though. By Bonnie’s estimation, there was a more literal interpretation. There really was _nothing_. Dead space. The animatronic couldn’t get a read on any walls, objects or anything. The hallway just…stopped. This unnerved the rabbit more than he expected it to, but as he opened his mouth to say something, there was a noise behind them.

And it was _definitely_ bigger than any noise Plushtrap had made noise far.

Everyone turned as one slow unit, hairs on the backs of neck standing straight up.

Bonnie couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a pair of ears move out of sight.

“Uh…Mike?” The bunny finally found his voice box.

“…yeah?” Mike breathed back softly, stricken into silence just as the other two. Mike had seen those ears then, too. Bonnie wasn’t up to meeting his wicked and possibly homicidal doppelganger, no thank you.

“You remember how, your first few shifts, the only safe place in the _entire pizzeria_ was your office?”

“Yeah.”

“I was just thinking,” They heard a low chuckle from somewhere to their right, and everyone tensed further. “That maybe we oughta find a room _just_ like your office and. Uh. Buckle down.”

“Best idea yet Bon.” Mike managed out, to the tune of Danny’s panicked nod of agreement.

No sooner had Mike said that when the door he had previously tried creaked open. The sound was sour, but the noise was like angels singing to the trio.

Quickly, everyone moved into the now available room, and no one noticed the soft scamper of little feet as Plushtrap returned to its hallway.

* * *

“And you have _no_ idea when he will be back?”

Freddy Fazbear was not having the best day of his long career. Granted, this beat that day in 1987, but then, most days did just by proxy. He pulled back from his collection of broken kitchen utensils, made a mental note that they would need more wooden spoons. Finally, with no hurry in his actions, did Fazbear turn to the small man that had been bothering him for the better part of the last hour.

Mr. Drummond, the CEO’s secretary in charge of expenses, branches (and according to their night guard ‘the miser of fun’) wasn’t small like Mike. No, Mike was short only because of poor posture and thin limbs. The young man was scrawny as a rake but held more power in his palm than this little man had ever seen. Of course, no one outside the pizzeria’s robotic staff knew that. Gold was not something you flaunted, because it liable to come back around and bite you one day. And really, Mr. Drummond was only vertically challenged. Horizontally he had little trouble filling space, for he was a rather portly man with a balding spot, a leather brief case from his wife and a tight set of lips.

That was one of the reasons Freddy had such a hard time liking adults. Especially corporate weasels like the man in the tweed suit before him. Their smiles never made it to their eyes; their jowls were set tightly and forget about laughter that went beyond anything other than a small, polite and pained chortle. And even then, the laugh sounded horribly annoyed, as if making someone laugh was something someone should feel ashamed about. Confound it! There was no fun, _no play_ about adults at all. How _could_ children stand to turn into them?

“Freddy?” Drummond’s voice cut through Fazbear’s hard drive like an axe, and the bear schooled his features. He even managed a smile that didn’t show off too many of his teeth. At least not the stained ones in the back, which were still a tad curiously brown from his time under King’s control. He really ought to get Mike to look into replacing those.

“No, sir. I can’t say as to when our boy will be back.”

Mr. Drummond’s finger closed and opened his pen cap with a perturbed click. Freddy politely ignored it. “He is _not_ a boy, Fazbear. Sometimes I worry you all aren’t getting the proper maintenance.”

“Michael is the one who gives us our maintenance.” Freddy remained calmly.

“ _Exactly_ my point.” The man sniffed coolly. “Schmidt’s job is manager and night guard. He has no business tampering with you all, you’re all vintage, valuable property, don’t forget.”

Well, that did it. Freddy drew himself up and fixed the man with a critical stare from his glowing blue optics. “I’m not sure I appreciate that tone yer takin to using. The lad’s fixing to do about a hundred jobs around here—yet he always seems ta be there when we need him. An’ when the kids needs him. An in case yous haven’t noticed…I be spry as a spring chicken.”

“Well I—“ But Freddy wasn’t done.

“Boy’s nuttier than a squirrel for listen’ ta _yer_ malarkey about funds and profits and what we can and can’t afford. He’s had ta hire an extra guard for the day shifts on weekends, yet ya been telling him we can’t afford a decent mechanic to take a load off the lad’s mind?” Freddy’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned over Drummond a bit.

“Numbers don’t lie, Fazbear. What are you suggesting?” Drummond snapped right back. Freddy had to hand it to the adult, but he wouldn’t do it vocally.

“I ain’t suggestin’ nuttin.’ But if all you did was ta come here and give Mike more worries, I’m afraid I’ll have ta tell you sumthin’ you might not like ta hear.”

Drummond looked a little concerned at this, but he covered it quickly. Thankfully, the slight fear was on his face long enough for Freddy to know that his threat had gotten through. It was no secret that threatening Schmidt’s wellbeing—mental or physical—was a one way trip to Hell, courtesy of Freddy Fazbear and friends. The robots could still be horribly menacing to troublesome adults, it seemed.

A ‘bug’ that might never get worked out. But then, was a personality a bug?

“And _what_ would that be?” Drummond finally sniffed.

Freddy watched him a moment, before walking over to the only remaining door in the kitchen that was useable. A large brown paw pushed it open and the titular character swept a mocking little ‘this way’ gesture with his tree trunk forearm, gears sliding.

“Don’t let the door hit’cha where the good Lord split yah.”

The man’s ears went pink, much to Freddy’s inner glee.

“I shall be taking my leave,” As if that was something that Fred cared about enough to be announced. “But _first thing_ tomorrow, Schmidt needs to give me a call! I won’t be in town much longer. Tell him it’s important.”

“Ah’ll be sure ta pass along the message, _sir_.” Only Freddy could make ‘sir’ seem like a derogatory word when he used the tone he did.

“See that you do.”

The man’s boring little car had only just pulled out from the space next to Mike’s when Foxy came around the corner. He was moving at a brisk pace, which wasn’t unusual for the fox. His jaw had loosened and, with no Mike around, bounced against his tattered chest as he came to a halt. Freddy was already in a foul mood, so when Foxy appeared out of seemingly no where—and looking like that—Fred knew this day was going to be filed away in his memory under ‘Here We Go Again.’ It would also probably be a day he wouldn’t be keen on reliving over.

“Fazbear! We gotta bit of o’problem.”

Freddy gave an electronic sigh. “It seems ta be the pattern this week.” The bear looked patiently behind the fox, but when no one showed up, his ears bent down in concern.

“…where’s the others, Fox?” Fred asked. “Where’s Mike?”

Foxy shut his jaw self consciously and grumbled.

“ _Foxy_.”

“…best come see fer yerself, Faz.”

* * *

The bedroom wasn’t anything special. A large bed to their right, a closet and dresser to their left. And, for some reason, a door directly across from the one they had just entered. Mike gave it a concerned look, because the theme of doors so far hadn’t led them to anything positive. The only luck they had was that the room seemed empty at the moment. Void of humans, animatronics or anything… _else_. Mike was vaguely aware of Bon shutting the door behind them, and checking the switch plates on the wall.

“The lights don’t work.” Bonnie informed.

“Okay. Give us a little light then, Bon.”

No sooner had the high beams in the rabbit’s optics powered up than Mike instantly wished they hadn’t.

“Are those _claw_ marks?” Danny whispered.

“Looks like it.” Mike swallowed and walked toward the nearest set. This took him to the opposite door, where he noticed a lamp sitting on a shorter dresser than the one near the closet. He tried it, but wasn’t entirely surprised when nothing came of his fiddling. He felt under the lamp shade.

“No light bulb.” For some reason, this struck the man as strange, but he filed the information away for later. Mostly because at the same time his only source of light swung away on him, and he jumped a little at the loss of safety a light source brought.

“Bonnie!” Mike turned to scold, but stopped when he saw what Danny and Bonnie were looking at.

“Look at these pictures on the wall.” Bonnie interrupted. “Don’t they look…familiar to you?”

Mike squinted at them. They were fuzzy, for one thing. A child in one. A dark figure standing against a white background. Faceless, but Mike had the odd feeling that Bonnie was seeing something else. “Not really. Should they?”

The rabbit made a frustrated noised and shook his purple head, ears bobbing. Bonnie turned away from the framed photos, illuminating the rest of the room.

Something shot off the bed and into the dark, just at the edge of Mike’s peripheral. A little tingle of ice crawled up his spine, and because it felt like Gold’s presence, Mike turned sharply to catch whatever it was.

The bed, however, was empty.

Starting to feel more than a little on edge, Mike went over to inspect the bed. He found a crushed flashlight half under the frame, and he lifted it out. Out of sheer curiosity, he pushed the slider toward On. Miraculously, though it was dent and split, the flashlight managed to give off a single, weary beam of light. If he aimed it anywhere Bonnie’s eyes weren’t already illuminating, the little beam felt choked by the darkness. He quickly turned it off, not wanting to push his luck and risk electrocution. There seemed to be plenty of other dangerous ways to go, especially in this strange other worldly place.

Trying to take his mind off current events, Danny coughed, making the other two glance at him.

“So…you used to hide in your office?” Thinking of his boss being scared of the robots like he was seemed to help the teen.

“Well, something like that.” Mike nodded. “You could say I get claustrophobic though. I stayed in, what? All of two nights before I went…exploring.” He finished delicately.

Danny tried to think of himself, alone at night in the restaurant, and couldn’t find any good reason for why leaving the guard’s office was a good idea. He shook his head a little, trying not to let his imagination run off with him.

“He’s also very quick to Stockholm.” Bonnie informed, remembering the days before Mike was their true night guard.

“Schmidt family trait.” Mike declared with a wry grin, “We like being liked.”

Danny managed a weak smile, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. He turned back to the wall he was standing by, and ran his fingers down the paper. Dust came off on his fingertips, and he hurriedly swiped them on his jeans.

“This place is like a tomb.” The teen commented after another beat of silence.

“How do you figure?” Mike asked the kid.

“Well, I mean. This house reminds me of my aunt’s. Mom says she’s stuck in the 80’s, but none of us really blame her.” Danny shrugged, wondering why Mike was looking at him like that. He had no idea he had given the man quite a bit to think about, and his brain was kicking into overdrive. “Anyway, it’s just so…quiet. Even though we’re just down the hall, I can’t hear the Grandfather’s clock anymore. And, I don’t know…it’s night time. Where are the crickets?”

Mike considered this all, nodding. “The 80’s, huh?” The date nagged at the back of his skull.

“What is it, Mr. Schmidt?” Danny finally asked.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Danny, it’s that old buildings are the keepers of _old_ secrets.” Mike supplied.

“We’re walking proof of that.” Bonnie cut in cheerfully.

“You’re starting to sound like the Marionette.” Danny said with a tiny noise of amusement.

“Heh. Am I?” Mike’s smile grew. “Guess you’re right. What do you say to that, Bon?” No answer.

“…Bon?”

The rabbit was standing still, but his ears were _not_.

“…something’s coming.”

Danny edged closer to the towering bunny. “W-what is it?”

“Plushtrap?” Mike guessed, voicing who they all _hoped_ it was. But the hairs were rising on the back of Mike’s neck, and now they were staying up. Gold was starting to stir, reacting to something off Mike’s limited, human radar but on Bonnie’s.

“No.” Bonnie whispered as the floor shook from footfalls. And after some consideration and listening to whatever signals his ears were picking up, he settled for, “Something bigger. More teeth.”

Mike opened his mouth, but everyone turned as one to the right door, the one they had not come through. It was pulled open, and what could only be described as a Nightmare stooped to haul its impressive girth into the bedroom. Mike’s mouth ran dry, and his heart rate picked up. He kept Gold back though, pressing a mental lid firmly and begging the ghostly animatronic to wait.

‘Let me try it my way.’ Mike begged. Gold allowed him, but for how long was the gamble.

Mike was closest; he could hear the thing breathing.

No, not breathing. But that black smog and smoke like essence that hugged against the animatronic’s horrifying metal limbs seemed to have a life of its own. It sucked and expanded as much or as little as it wanted. The air around Mike felt chilly, and when he looked up into garnet round optics his blood cooled too. It was like his blood had been replaced with liquid nitrogen as Nightmare creepily let its pointy mouth swung open and its head roll on its shoulders. Mike understood, slowly, either by getting it or by Gold’s help.

Nightmare was an animatronic without a suit, and he was dangerous.

“MY MY. WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?”

“Aaa friendly group looking for a black puppet?” Mike ventured with a weak grin.

“About yay high, all powerful, have you seen him?” Bonnie cut in, right on cue. “He’d be reaaal pissed if something happened to us—especially this guy here,” A purple paw jabbed toward Mike, who waved, “And trust me, you do _not_ want to get the puppet pissed at you.”

“OHH. BUT I THINK I DO.” Nightmare rumbled out, which wasn’t the response they were expecting.

Everyone realized at once that Nightmare’s death glare was aimed at Mike, who suddenly decided he knew how painted targets felt. Or those fellows who volunteered to hold the apple for the bowman.

“THAT LITTLE CHILD’S TOY WENT AND HID ON ME AGAIN.” Nightmare informed, sounding irked. “AND YOU’RE JUST WHAT I NEED TO DRAW THEM OUT.”

“..child’s toy?” Mike muttered, brow furrowing as pieces aligned themselves. “Child—Arthur! You’re talking about Mari! He wouldn’t hide! Not from a shadow like you!”

“IT ALWAYS HIDES. HIDES THE CHILD. HIDES IN THE BOX.” Nightmare trailed off with a snarl, eyes flashing. “HIDES LIKE THE LITTLE RUNT IT’S HOUSING.”

“I think we might want to consider getting the holy doughnuts out of dodge, Mike.” Bonnie hissed at him, to the tune of Mike’s slow nod.

“Right. Right, on three. Head back to the hall with Plushtrap.” A door worked both ways, right?

“AH-AH-AH.” A clawed finger—a finger that looked like a drill, Mike realized in growing terror—shook before them. “HEY THERE KIDS, WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?”

The door was pulled closed.

And though two humans held their breath and one robot its exhaust, nothing happened.

“…wow, he’s a few screws short of a hardware store.” Mike snorted. “We’ll just use the other door, duh.”

The night guard tried to shake off how frightened Nightmare made him feel. He wasn’t used to that feeling much anymore, and he didn’t need it right now. As he crossed the room in quick strides and reached for the handle, Bonnie’s ears flung up and swiveled this way and that at some imperceptible sound.

“Mike, wait!”

But the rabbit was a second too late in his warning. Mike paused to ask him what the matter was now, just as the door was ripped open wider and nearly pulled his arm from its socket. Teeth, claws, black, met him. And not necessarily in that order. Everyone screamed—except Nightmare, who was roaring so loud Mike thought his teeth were going to crack from banging off one another.

Mike brought the door down on the monster’s hand, not letting up until he heard metal screech in protest. Nightmare cried out—could he, it, feel pain?—but there was no time to test the theory, and Mike wasn’t about to stop and ask. Between Mike and Bonnie, the two managed to keep Nightmare from getting in for several seconds.

Then the clawed hand drew back out, leaving gouges in the wood frame, but at least it wasn’t one of them. Danny gulped at the claw marks, and Mike didn’t blame him.

“FINE, BOY. YOU WANT TO PLAY A GAME?” Came a muffled grunt from behind the door.

Mike winced at the harsh baritone of the animatronic.

“I don’t…not really.” Mike admitted with a whisper to Bon as they both realized nothing was on the other side of the door anymore.

Silence reigned.

Then, footsteps down the _other_ side of the hall.

“Looks like you don’t have a choice.” Bonnie said grimly, ears twitching toward the noise.

Mike and Danny lunged as one, grabbing the right hall door and hauling it shut. It was wrestled from their weak by comparisons grip and Nightmare forced his way in on his second try. Mike and Danny ducked and dodged to avoid being gutted by swinging claws. Bonnie quickly replaced Danny and swung a fist, but it was caught and Nightmare merely let Bonnie overbalance on his punch. The rabbit was sent against the bed and struggled to get up, but only Danny could run to the purple bunny’s aid. Nightmare had cornered Mike, his back near the closet.

“NOT TOO SMART, BOY.”

A chilled sensation crawled up Mike’s spine as Nightmare closed the distance between them impossibly fast.

“Bon, get Danny out of here—“ That was all he managed before a black clawed paw, bigger than his head, grabbed hold of his shirt and hauled him clear off the ground. Mike was bodily thrown by Nightmare, as if the night guard weighed nothing at all. His back cracked into the bed frame, and his shoulder clipped the dresser. Most of his spine smashed into the mattress, but hitting everything else and then subsequently dropping to the floor knocked the wind out of him. Nightmare stomped closer, cornering him again, and Mike couldn’t spot a route out.

“Ss-shit,” Mike managed, unable to get any air in his lungs. He pounded a fist into the carpet, his eyes starting to glow yellow as he let go of the lid in his mind. “Didn’t…expect…that…” Breathing was hard, but thankfully his other side didn’t need to breathe. Michael Schmidt shook and curled in on himself as he was pulled into his own mind and something else came out.

“Okay, then.” Mike breathed, feeling yellow hot electricity sizzle from his fist and his body. _“Game on_.”

From the side of the bed Mike had fallen out of sight, Gold hauled itself mechanically to its feet.

Nightmare laughed at the arrival of the animatronic, and punched a fist into its shadowy mitt. Gold watched the other bear grimly.

“LONG TIME NO SEE. I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE YOU PICKED SUCH A WEAKLING FOR A SUIT.”

 _“LEAST I HAVE A SUIT.”_ Gold snapped right back. Nightmare’s sneer vanished, turning into nothing more than gnash of teeth.

“THAT’S GONNA CHANGE, SOON, FREDBEAR.”

_“NOT IF MY LITTLE BUDDY AND I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT.”_

The two titans collided.

The walls trembled as the two bears slammed into each other. Gold got in a punch square in Nightmare’s eye, shattering one optic. Black slime oozed from the cracked glass, before slowly healing itself. Nightmare laughed slowly, noticing Gold’s pause of surprise.

“WHEN THE CHILD’S SCARED, I’M SO MUCH STRONGER THAN YOU. DID YOU FORGET THE RULES?”

 _“DID YOU FORGET YOU NEVER WIN?!”_ Gold roared, volleying a sucker punch into Nightmare’s jaw. The black bear went flying, cracking through the closet door in a shower of splintered wood.

“Wow!” Danny managed, and Bonnie nodded.

“SILLY OLD BEAR,” Nightmare was up, “WHY DO YOU THINK THAT TOY IS HIDING FROM ME IN THE FIRST PLACE?” And Nightmare was moving.

 _“FROM YER BREATH_?” Gold grunted sarcastically as the golden animatronic’s wires sparked and sent of jolts of electricity. Mike’s soul powered Gold, and Gold reflected Mike. Sometimes the snark bled through, it seemed.

“THE MARIONETTE LOST OUR LITTLE GAME.”

Gold froze, and from there, everything went downhill.

Nightmare full body tackled Gold, sending them both into the doorframe. Gold stumbled, loosing footing while Nightmare pushed farther and sent the dazed animatronic into the right wing hall. Gold tried a roar, but Nightmare was there and delivered a blow that dented Gold’s suit.

This time, the roar was a cry, and it was a _little_ too human sounding.

“AND YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE THIS ONE.” Nightmare mocked, grabbing Gold’s fist when it came at him again. Nightmare kept his fist locked around Gold’s, and dragged him in for another hard blow that shook the foundation of the house.

Gold wheezed and could only raise his arms to block the oncoming onslaught. Eventually, though, the animatronic wobbled dangerously, and hit the wall.

It was Golden Freddy who slid down the wall, but it was Mike Schmidt who hit the carpeting.

Nightmare pulled back, laughing at the crumpled form that had been exposed by Gold’s exhaustion. Errant bolts of energy arced around Mike’s broken and bruised body. He shuddered against the waves of pain and tried to focus enough to glare at Nightmare, for all the good it did.

The night guard was distantly aware of footsteps, light and heavy alike. Purple swam into his vision, and he tried to see Bonnie better. But the bunny was on his black eye. Mike coughed from where he lay up against the wall as he felt someone—Danny, maybe—grip his shoulder and give it a little shake.

“Mike!? You gotta get back up buddy!” Bonnie called, somewhere to his left. “I think Nightmare only finished round one!”

“I…I can’t beat him…” Mike wheezed out, finally managing to look desperately at the purple rabbit. Blood trickled down his cheek from his temple. “He’s too strong.”

Mike and Bonnie shared a horrified glance, Mike’s was more pain filled than anything else.

“Mr. Schmidt…”

Nightmare roared with jarring laughter.

“GET UP AND FIGHT, BOY.” The monstrosity laughed at him. “OR ARE WE NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE A SUIT? SOME NIGHT GUARD. YOU ARE TOO LITTLE.”

Something akin to hate flooded Mike’s system, and it gave him a burst of adrenaline he didn’t know he had buried. The night guard growled and lifted his head to glare at Nightmare.

“…I’ll show you little.”

Mike gritted his teeth and got one knee under him. He rose shakily, having to use the wall for support. Gold was unresponsive, which wasn’t good.

“What do we do, what do we do!?” Danny asked from behind Bonnie, sounding panicked.

“I…don’t know. Gold’s _never_ lost before.” Bonnie managed quietly, sounding a little stunned as Nightmare started charging, and Mike readied himself. The night guard planted himself dead center of the hallway, blocking off the purple bunny and teen from Nightmare’s approach.

Even if Mike wanted to run, he knew he didn’t have the stamina. Without Gold, he was nothing. He was just Mike again.

And he was going to lose, too. Worse, Bonnie and Danny would get hurt.

That aside, maybe Mike could give them enough of a head start.

“Go through the bedroom as soon as you get the chance. Just go, I’ll catch up to you guys.” Mike whispered harshly. Bonnie looked offended and startled.

“Don’t lie! That thing gets a hold of you? That’s it, Schmidt!”

“Dammit Bonnie, don’t argue!”

Bonnie opened his mouth to do so, but then Nightmare was feet away. He was coming at them with all the force of a steam engine. Black shadows drifted behind the monster and claws and eyes glinted in the dim light as he bore down over Mike, who kept his arms spread out but closed his eyes and tensed. He waited for claws to gouge through his chest, to be lifted and tossed like a rag doll, or even grabbed by the neck and—

_“Michael! You must run!”_

Blue eyes sprang open.

Spread out before him, many limbs and spindle body bracing itself against Nightmare, was the Marionette. It was no longer a nightmare, but it also was shaking from the effort of keeping Nightmare off the others.

“Mari! You’re alright!” Mike cried in relief, “I can’t run—what about you!?”

But Bonnie was already grabbing Mike by the arm and hauling him toward the door, which was suddenly glowing along its edges. Mike caught on instantly, even as he took note of the fractured cracks and broken bits of the puppet’s body.

The puppet turned its smiling face to them, but the smile didn’t reach its pin prick eyes. Mike began to feel something far deeper than fear ignite in his bones.

 _“I am afraid this is where curtain falls, Michael.”_ He had called him by his name.

“Nn—no—“ Mike tried.

_“Remember to smile.”_

Nightmare’s claws grabbed the puppet’s body on one end each. And with little ceremony, tore the puppet in two with the same snapping noise that old kindling made.

“ _Nooo_!!” Mike screamed, reaching uselessly as a little orb fluttered where the puppet’s whole body used to hang. Nightmare had torn the puppet apart like it was a paper bag, revealing the child that hid within.

“THE SUIT IS GONE. AND SO THE CHILD’S SOUL...” Nightmare reached out and engulfed the frantic little ball of purple light before anything else could happen. The robot turned blood colored eyes and sneered at them.

“IS _MINE_.”

Distantly, Mike heard the sound of a crying, from a small meek voice that he knew could only belong to Arthur.

“Mari!!” Mike called, waiting for the puppet to spring to life and take back Arthur. Unfortunately, all this did was alert Nightmare to the remaining trio. Danny squeaked as the shadows seemed to engulf the small hallway they were standing, and the temperature dropped several degrees toward freezing. Bonnie noticed right away that they had just become Nightmare’s new targets, and noticed the yellow-gold portal the Marionette had ripped open for them was slowly beginning to close.

“Oh, man, we gotta go—“

Nightmare lunged at them, but Bonnie pulled on both humans and they all fell back through the portal.

Bonnie landed heavily on the floor, and Danny on Bonnie. But Mike hit the cheap linoleum and tumbled a few feet. He barely noticed they had come through the door and into the security office; and he hardly had the strength to lift his head. When he finally did, it was because the portal was sizzling closed.

Something came flying through the small door at them, just before it shut. Nightmare’s chilling bellow of what apparently was his laughter sounded at the same time. The pieces slammed into the ground and clacked to a stop before Mike, who lay on his stomach looking up at the doorway. It was the broken pieces of the Marionette, its painted face cracked down the center and exposing hollow, aged wood. There was no star glint in the ebony behind its mask. With the child’s soul gone and Arthur’s suit destroyed, the portal into the memory of Arthur’s young, hurt mind evaporated. Mike slid his gaze downward, expecting to see movement from his friend. Or better yet, some tired sarcastic comment about this entire situation. He waited. And waited.

“…Hey. Marion?” Mike ventured softly, his voice barely making it above a whisper.

The smiling, broken face of the Marionette was almost in two pieces, just like the rest of its body.

“…this isn’t funny, Mari.” Mike choked out, as dread curdled in the pit of his stomach and iced his bones. “H-hey. Answer me.”

For once, it did exactly what a marionette that had no strings is supposed to do.

It said nothing.

* * *

**_END OF ACT I._ **

_‘To silence the puppeteer  
you need only destroy the puppet.’ _


	9. A Dark Eye is Watching You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Bea Wonders About Buildings  
> *To Keep Something Out  
> *Mike and Freddy Talk of Operas and Greatness

**ACT II**

**  
Chapter 9. A Dark Eye is Watching You**

A girl with a braid shyly approached Freddy Fazbear.

“Mr…Fazbear?” Once you got past the animatronic, Not Exactly Alive detail, it was reasonably easy to regard all the robots as fellow coworkers. Well, for some it was harder than others, but those that had a problem taking orders from Freddy knew they didn’t have a friend in their Manager. Be polite. That’s how Mr. Schmidt said they should act, and anyway, the robots _were_ all friendly enough that few people had a problem with one of the Manager’s biggest rules. _‘Treat them how you wish to be treated. Otherwise, don’t complain to me if you treat them like machines and they aren’t exactly friendly about it.’_ It was one of the few times Bea could remember hearing the friendly man’s voice sound so tight and warning. It made her wonder, because as fleeting as the expression had been during his lecture, Mike seemed older than the body he spoke from.

Keeping that in mind, Bea waited patiently as Mr. Fazbear turned toward the sound of her voice.

“Miss Bea?” He asked, and she nodded. “Ah, on time as usual. But I’m afraid we aren’t opening today. There’s no need for servers.” Freddy informed politely.

She nodded shyly again, but glanced behind her at some of her fellow waiters and waitresses. It was only a handful, but maybe it would help.

“We, we heard about the fire and just wanted to know if we could help the cleanup crew.” Not only was it the right thing to do, but the sooner the restaurant was back up and running, the sooner they had paying jobs back. Bea just hoped either Mike or Fazbear had heard of some people talking about quitting, because she knew it would break Mike’s heart. She didn’t know how Fazbear would react, but she really didn’t want to find out. Still, _most_ stayed, and the ones behind her had even volunteered out of loyalty to their Manager, rather than any affection for the robots.

Those strange blue optics swept over the humans, though Bea seemed the chosen spokesperson for this occasion. No one stepped forward, but Freddy chalked their silence up to embarrassment, or the fact that he _was_ a nearly seven foot tall bear with a questionable hand print stain Mike just couldn’t get out of his suit. Now, Freddy much preferred these fellows Mike had been hiring. Late 20’s and below, needing money and eager to work. And most of all—and Fred often suspected this was on purpose—young enough the animatronics had a harder time recognizing them as adults. The cooks in the back were adults, but the staff that stayed on the floor with Freddy and the others sometimes looked as young as those little tots running around. Like most of Mike’s plans, it worked. Freddy had little ill will toward these humans, even less than his normal suspicions that every Adult was _Up to Something_.

“Ah appreciate tha, Miss Bea. All of us do,” Freddy knew that a few of them were wondering where their Manager was. He could see it on their faces.“We might have a little bit of cleaning left ta do. Ya’ll know where the supplies closest are. Any questions, you find me or Bon.” He turned away, orders given. But a tiny voice stopped him, gears churring.

“…you or the bunny?” The voice sounded hesitant, and when he turned with a raised eyebrow plate, Bea had to speak up again, for the speaker from before had squeaked into silence.

“Where’s…uhm, where’s Mr. Schmidt? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Freddy’s ears sank to the sides, and his eye plates lowered to show his depression as he turned to give them the most honest answer he could manage.

“Mr. Schmidt is feeling a mite under the weather. I ask ya’ll not to disturb him for the moment, please.” His tone lowered.

“Is that clear?”

It was said gently enough, but everyone nodded quickly, and some wished the question hadn’t been asked at all. Rumors whispered spread like wild fire, but Bea, who grabbed a dust pan and broom, remained silent.

She couldn’t be the only one who noticed, just how quiet and dark the restaurant seemed suddenly? Even with the lights on, the walls seemed to be leaning inward on them all. And with it being closed, too, that meant Freddy’s Pizzeria was sorely lacking in music, noise and worst of all, children. It was like the building was _sorrowful_ over the loss of something, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? She began sweeping out the area behind the stove that Chica pulled out for her. Such a silly thought, a building that could be sad. Those were human emotions, and had no place in inanimate objects.

On that note, though…

Bea shot a furtive glance at the purple bunny talking with the day guard. Bonnie was listening to something Danny said, and when the human finished, Bonnie smiled and nodded, ears bobbing as he responded with emotions, and gesture. And for a moment, the rabbit seemed almost human. Maybe a building exhibiting emotions wasn’t that far out of realm of possibility.

It couldn’t _just_ be her imagination. It couldn’t be.

* * *

The little figure waited for a few moments in the dark.

It could pick up the soft tearful sounds down the hall, but since it wasn’t Game time, Plushtrap didn’t pay much attention to the noises.

It did however, give most of its concentration to the previous night. How different. How new!

How _delightful_.

Stubby paws tapping the edge of its chair, the little yellow rabbit wiggled one of its ears in deep thought. Plushtrap had little concept of time—aside from ‘short’, ‘long’ and worst of all, ‘Very Long.’

It had been sitting here with no one to play with for a Very Long amount of time. Which is no good at all. What is a toy without a game to play?! Why, a very terrible toy!

And, well. Plushtrap _might_ be a naughty little thing, but only when the moment called for it. But little did the others know, he could be good as _gold_ when the mood struck the little devil.

And the mood had not struck for a Very Long time.

But he can feel something now. Something nagging in the back of its stitched up little noggin.

There was a…disturbance, throughout the house. The scales had tipped, and not toward anything Good. Plushtrap could sense this, and he wasn’t even in the main halls of the strange, Not Real world they lived in. Everything had changed when those strangers came through the walls of one of his rooms. They had opened some strange, glowing door and then, _woosh_! It was all very confusing but oh so _interesting_ to the little bunny. Humans, Plushtrap recalls carefully. The one with the Gold smile who played with him. And the other one, who hid behind his purple counterpart—who was strangely lacking any teeth and claws. How long ago had it been? A Short while, possibly? It’s so hard to keep track of time when you have not concept of it, sadly.

Without meaning to, as Plushtrap was apt to do, his thoughts drifted back to the events of yesterday. Its feet wiggled in mild frustration.

It wanted to play! Sitting here was _boring_.

Those humans had played with it. They had even had a very nice flashlight, with two beams! How interesting. It made the Game so much more harder for the little rabbit, who took it as a personal challenge.

Plushtrap’s gaze slid toward the first doorway to his left.

That had been the room they had just appeared in. On the far wall.

For most of its life, unless there was a Game going, Plushtrap remained sitting on its chair. It had only deviated once, when it had followed the strangers to the main hall. And then it had heard Nightmare coming, and it had gotten the heck out of there! It almost wished the strangers had done the same.

Plushtrap had a _job_ to do, just like all the others.

Sit here. And wait.

And when the time arose, play the Game.

…but it was an awfully Long time that Plushtrap had done nothing but sitting and waiting.

After a moment, Plushtrap pushed off its chair. There were no flashlights around. No strangers, and the Child it used to play with wasn’t here either.

It tensed, waiting for someone to come after it for deviating from its spot. For breaking the rules.

A cricket chirped. Leaves rustled up behind its window. Down the hall, the clock chimed.

But, wondrously, _nothing happened!_

Courage growing by the second, the small bunny scuttled for the first room on the left of its tiny little hall.

A door worked both ways, didn’t it?

* * *

“Is Mike going to be alright?” Danny asked Bonnie. The rabbit’s ears turned toward him, and finally his friend shrugged.

“Dunno. This is big, kid.” Bonnie sounded out his words carefully as he tried to explain. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those two apart for months. Mari is pretty much the reason Mike’s alive today. In fact, the little guy’s the reason all of us are the way we are.”

“Really? How so?” Danny’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well, we _were_ built and programmed like regular animatronics in the beginning, sure.” Bonnie sighed and spotted some trash on the ground. He picked it up and rolled it into a ball. “But after that…look, there’s a difference between _living_ and _being alive_ , yanno? The Marionette was that difference.”

“I…no. I don’t follow, sorry Bon.” Danny admitted quietly.

“I don’t blame ya, Danny.” Bonnie tossed the little crumpled ball of napkin toward the trash. He made it. “It’s not something I’d wish someone to understand, I guess. It goes like this, though. We’re animatronics. Me, Freddy, Chica, Foxy. BB, you get it, right?” At his friend’s nod, Bonnie went back to watching the kid.

“And you, you and Mike? And the cooks, the servers, what have you. Kids and adults. You guys are _human_.”

“…right.”

“But the Marionette…” Bonnie shrugged. “It wasn’t one or the other. At one point, I think it _was_ a robot. But not now. Not for a long, long time. Can you imagine what that must _feel_ like? Weird, I bet.”

“Well, he was kind of a weird character.” Danny paused, suddenly unwilling to speak ill of the dead. Could that thing even die, if it wasn’t human or robot? Apparently, yes. After they had all made it back through the portal, Mike had tried to get the robot to respond. Even pulled out a tool box and took him into Parts and Services.

Around 6 am or so, Danny’s boss had come out, holding the covered present box. and that had been the end of that.

Bonnie nodded slowly. “He was. That doesn’t take away what Marion meant to all of us.” Bonnie glanced to the door that led to the West Hall. “What he meant to Mike.”

“That monster bear, thing…Nightmare, right?” Danny’s frown came back as he stared at the floor, arms crossed. “It…took something from the Marionette after…you know.”

“Yeah. That would be the puppet’s soul.”

“…soul? But I thought you said he wasn’t human.”

Bon’s red eyes clicked over to Danny, and for the first time the teen felt he had said something that upset the playful, teasing bunny.

“Who said you had to be _human_ to have a soul?”

“I didn’t mean—“ Danny felt his cheeks heat up. Of them all, he and Bonnie were closest. He didn’t want to insult his friend. But thankfully, Bon seemed to understand and more importantly, he took pity on the kid instead of tormenting him.

“Nah. It’s okay. Truth be told, that soul isn’t anymore the puppet’s. No more than Mike’s soul is Gold’s.” Bon informed casually. “That’s just kind of how the rules are.”

“That big yellow bear, right?”

Bonnie nodded.

That had spooked Danny too. This whole spider web of ghosts, animatronics and nightmares was making him regret this job more and more. He hung on if only to finish what he had started, and maybe because he felt bad for Mike.

Danny opened his mouth to pick the bunny’s brain—or whatever it was that powered the impressive machine—but his cell buzzed in his pocket. His friends were here, and honestly Danny just wanted to go home and sleep for a week. He knew, even as he bid his friend good bye, that he would go home only long enough to shower, eat, and then nap. Tomorrow was Saturday, and he felt a strange pull to return to the pizzeria even as he slid out the double glass doors and into the dawn. Even though he wouldn’t be on duty, and there would technically be nothing for him to guard, Danny felt the need to return.

Before he got into Sam’s car, the wind brushed against his back. a little shiver ran down his neck at the cool fall air, and Danny twisted to listen to brown leaves flitter along the cement. He lifted his gaze to the sad little building that leaned to the east.

Is this how his dad felt? Is that why he had returned night after night, even as the restaurant went under investigation? As his dad’s world came crumbling down? Just a man who happened to be the night guard. A job that had him so beaten down he didn’t need shackles, forever walking back into Freddy Fazbear’s Restaurant to guard things that never really need protection in the first place.

And then, the one time he went into work during the day, he left on a stretcher. Danny closed his eyes, and listened to the wind whispering through the trees. Those old swaying oaks and pines that surrounded the parking lot, like soldiers standing to block something out. Then Danny remembered Nightmare.

Or to keep something in.

“You okay, man?”

“I think this jobs getting to him. Ya should quit.”

Danny jerked to attention, and clambered into the back seat.

“I can’t.” Danny said softly, buckling his seat belt at the last second. After an experience with Nightmare, one was often left with a sobering sense of mortality. Your world could end at any moment.

Just like his dad’s world had.

If nothing else, he could try and help Mike and if Mike didn’t want any, Danny could use the time to keep searching the restaurant. But he’d be damned if he let Mike end up like his dad had. Bonnie had been right. There _was_ a difference in living, and being alive. At least for humans. And living off a machine for four weeks before flat lining and leaving behind a wife and a child was _not_ living. It was being alive, but barely.

As horrible a thought as it was, Danny couldn’t help but realize that the puppet’s absence meant it would be easier to poke around without getting in trouble. The thought about the puppet caught up with Danny’s train of thought, leaving him pondering what Bonnie meant when he had said what he had.

A difference in living, and being alive.

* * *

Foxy shoved his long muzzle out between the curtains of his cove. He had heard the footsteps and had anticipated who it was, just by footfall. Besides, Bon still had a limp and Chica was finally able to tend to her kitchens, and BB was so noisy for how small he was. That left only one option.

“How’s he doin?” Freddy asked.

Foxy meet the bear’s gaze, before shaking his head sadly. “Hasn’t moved or said a word since…well. Ya know.”

Freddy nodded, looking troubled. After a weary electronic sigh, he gestured and stepped up on the Cove’s old stage. The floorboards creaked under his weight.

“Right. Some of the servers came in to help, even though they ain’t getting paid and its gunna be nothing but labor.”

Foxy’s eyes crinkled warmly at this development. Imagine! Adults doing that. “The lad knows how to hire em, don’t he?”

“That he does.” Freddy agreed.

Foxy twisted around, but held open one side of his curtains with that long hook.

“…matey?” He called gently into the darkness. “Freddy be wantin’ ta see ya…that alright?”

No answer.

“…Mikey?” Foxy hedged again.

“Sure.” It was a weak, low mutter.

Foxy sighed. “Best yer gunna get. Why don’ we switch? I’ll go to the floor and watch the adults.” All of them were loathe leaving their night guard alone, but at the same time, what could they do? And crowding him might only make him withdrew further. No one was surprised when Mike hid in Pirate’s Cove, just like no one was surprised when Foxy immediately took up protective watchfox. Anyone wanting to get at Mike without his consent would have to get past teeth first, and Foxy still had a lot of bite left in him.

“A grand idea, Foxy.” Freddy agreed softly as they walked by one another, he tipped his hat to the old scallywag.

The both knew it wasn’t because of the staff. Chica and Bonnie both were more than capable of being the ‘Walking Security Cameras’ as Mike called them. This wasn’t about that. This was about Mike, and the fact he hadn’t moved in hours from the darkness of Pirate’s Cove. No one wanted to go into the Security Office, where the gift box lay full of the Marionette’s remains.

Least of all the night guard.

Pirate’s Cove had finally had its lighting replaced a few months ago. And even though Mike and Foxy had taken the week when schools opened and waxed and cleaned the flooring, the little Cove was still a bit of a catch all. Foxy had gotten used to the boxes around him he said more than once. And his ship was back standing and the fox commented there was plenty of room for him to roam anyway. Whenever he thought his systems were getting a bit harried he would retreat to the darkness of the Cove, ease back down and then wander back out. The kids were all used to it now, too, so Foxy’s Cove remained temporarily closed. It was more of a hideaway, though there was even talk of turning it into a spot for younger kids, like Mangle’s old room had been.

Still, plans had been spoken, not done. And tomorrow never comes and there was always something that took priority over renovations they simply didn’t have the money for.

Freddy has a feeling that right now, Mike is grateful for a place besides his office to retreat to.

The bear found the young man wedged between a towering stack of boxes, sitting on the floor. He looked pathetic. To be honest, Freddy wasn’t too keen on that little set up—what if the boxes fell? But the night guard didn’t seem inclined to move when Freddy walked in. Mike kept his knees drawn up to his chest, but lifted his expressionless face when Freddy got closer. Freddy had to switch on his optics to see exactly where he was going, but one look at the tucked in form of his friend and Fred felt the strange sensation of dread. He had no stomach that could sink, but he could feel the robotic equivalent in his processor.

“Son…ya can’t keep up like this.” Freddy approached softly and stood over him. It was times like this the bear wished he was a bit more flexible. “It ain’t healthy.”

“Freddy.” Mike started; raising a hand to bury in his hair, and push his palm into one of his eyes, as if that alone could stop the wetness in his eyes. “This is all my fault.” But Fazbear shook his head and shushed the young man, hoping to soothe.

“No, no don’t think like tha now—“

“It _is_ , and you know it.” Mike cut him off, voice broken. “I _never_ should have opened that door. I should have listened to Mari! If we hadn’t shown up he wouldn’t have had to come out of hiding!”

“Ya didn’t _know_ , Michael. None of us did, I wouldn’t have let ya go in myself. That makes it as much my fault, then.” Freddy frowned, not wishing to belittle his friend’s feeling or think he was making it about him. The bear shook his head. “Son, y’know the Puppet wouldn’t want ya ta be like this over him. Yer gunna make yerself sick.”

“Too late.” Mike shot up in a bitter tone. “I made it to bathroom, though, don’t worry.”

Wisely, Freddy shut his mouth. He might not know how humans handled grieving, but he certainly knew about loss. Some features, sadly, could never programmed. They could only be experienced.

Freddy fell silent, distinctly aware that there were no words in the English language he could string together that would soothe the night guard’s heartbreak. Left with little else to do, Freddy rested against the wall and started up his music box. _Toreador March_ twinkled and twanged from his system.

The gentle sound made Mike lift his head a little bit, staring across the gloomy stage. There was a little light let in by the parted curtains, but it was hard to make out any sounds of the restaurant like this. There weren’t enough people to make chatter, and none of the arcade games were on. The dining hall was empty. The kitchen was practically useless. Most of his body was killing him, because Gold could only repair the _suit_ so fast, and even that magical first aid wouldn’t be perfect either. Every time Mike moved, his shoulder throbbed in protest. He sniffled weakly, pulling in shuddering breaths as he recalled that broken body of his best friend lying crumpled in two places on the floor of the security office. He had no one to go to for advice, and suddenly the darkness seemed more threatening than it used to. Suddenly, it was no longer a comforting cohort whose painted smile couldn’t quite reflect the sharpness of the Marionette’s twinkle star eyes.

It was just dark.

And despite this, _Toreador March_ continued on.

Mike let his red eyes drop closed. Darker still.

“Do you know what song means, Freddy?” Mike’s voice was little more than a rasp. Still, Freddy heard him.

“My music box song? Can’t say as I do.” He said. “Had as far back as I can remember. Always wondered why I had one, and none of the others did.”

That wasn’t entirely correct, Mike realized slowly. The puppet had _My Grandfather’s Clock._

“It’s from the second Act of a play called _Carmen_. My mom took me to see it once, she really likes the theater.” Mike swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Anyway, the character who sings it? Escamillo. He…he sings about how exciting and dangerous his job is.”

“ _And think well, yes think,”_ Mike spoke the lyrics out as Freddy’s song hit the notes. “ _A_ _s you are fighting_ _,_ _that a dark eye is watching yo_ _u.”_ Mike sighed and finished, “ _A_ _nd that love is waiting for you.”_

“Ah.” Freddy nods, wondering where this is going, but strangely, Mike falls silent again.

And then, suddenly, seemingly off topic:

“I don’t know how to fix this one, Freddy.” Mike’s voice cracked. “I’ve tried— _Gold_ , tried. We lost. What if we try again and someone else gets killed? I, I don’t think I _can_ fix this one.”

“Oh, Mikey…” He doesn’t use the nickname often, but he extends his large paw down to the night guard. After some clear hesitation, Mike takes it. Freddy lifts him to his feet, noting the way Mike hugs his ribs and stands all hunched over and deflated like one of BB’s balloons. The kid’s in pain, in more ways than one.

“C’mere.” And Mike is pulled into what can only be described as one of the best bear hugs that there could be. He was crushed against the towering frame of Fazbear. Mike doesn’t fight it; he hugs right back, even though his muscles ache and his bones are heavy. Tired fingers clutch the stout fur of Freddy’s suit, and Mike leans all his weight on his friend and buries his face in the bear’s stomach. Mike has no idea how long he hides against the animatronic bear, but he’s grateful for the entire sensation of just being held. It’s like an anchor, and it settles deep in Mike’s heart and manages to lift it just a fraction. When Mike’s grip loosens, Freddy sees this and allows him to pull back a little bit.

“Now you hear me, Michael Schmidt.” Freddy starts, voice firm, “This ain’t just gonna be your job alone. I dunno anyone who could do this by themselves, and I don’t think I’d like them much. But you, my boy, _you_ got the guts in you to see this through to the end. Always have, even before the Puppet made you a Suit.” He pulled out of the hug, laying a paw over Mike’s shoulder and ducking to meet the night guard’s blue eyes. Mike managed a weak nod, but couldn’t smile yet it seemed. That wouldn’t do.

“Gold don’t make you, only _you_ can show what you’re made of. And I’ll be right behind ya, kid.” Freddy promised. “You never quit on me, so I won’t quit on you. Awright?”

Finally, though it’s small and watery, the corner’s of Mike’s lips turn up for a second. But Freddy only looks satisfied when he nods weakly.

“Thanks, Freddy.” Though ‘thank you’ didn’t seem like enough. At least Mike could think straight again. His chest still hurt, and it had nothing to do with Gold and Nightmare’s battle from last night. Who knows, this pain might never go away.

But at least Mike could manage it. And for better or for worse, Fred was right.

The Marionette _wouldn’t_ want him like this.

Deep down, Mike knew what the puppet would want. It was the same thing it wanted against King, and against Purple Guy.

Freddy straightened up, giving Mike a proud look. “Don’ mention it.” He winked once, all playful like. “I gotta reputation to uphold. Can’t stand Adults, yanno.” The bear’s optics twinkled.

The sad smile grew stronger, and it looked a little less fake.

“Lucky for you, I’m not an Adult, am I?” Mike suddenly said, eyes narrowing a little.

“No?” Freddy asked curiously, not expecting this reply.

“Nope.” Mike took a deep breath and started for the curtain. “I’m the Night Guard.”

Freddy looked surprised, but then he chuckled a little.

“That you are, Michael.” Freddy followed, just like he promised. “That you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s no coincidence we talk of Toreador March in the opening chapter of Act II. This story wants to shorten itself down, so we’ll see. There’s lots of loose ends we have to tie up, yet. I appreciate any and all feedback on this story! …even if I can’t get around to responding. Thank you so much for reading, now stay tuned—for danger!


	10. Them Nightshift Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Things come back around to haunt Mike  
> *Plushtrap starts the Game  
> *There Are Some Doors, Which Should Never Be Opened...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several Nancy Drew soundtracks and some hundred goldfish later, and this chapter is finally done! 
> 
> If you’re a fan of spooky music, or want a little atmosphere while you read this chapter—or this whole story in general—I suggest these songs: ‘Haunted Carnival’ (from The Haunted Carousel.) ‘Spooky Ghosts’ (The Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake,) and the entire Ghost of Thorton Hall soundtrack. Haunted Carnival, in particular, is very much the theme of the knight guard series. 
> 
> Author’s notes will go back to the bottom after this, because it didn’t make sense to suggest music AFTER the chapter. Happy reading!

**ACT II**

**  
10\. Them Nightshift Blues**

Mike straightened his back up tiredly and arched it until he felt some vertebrae pop into place.

“Ah don’ think humans er’ supposed ta make tha’ sound, son.”

The night guard shot Freddy a dry smile. The bear was such a mother hen. “Probably not. But I’m feeling a lot better than I did last night, Freddy.” He admitted as he walked over. “I think I need to take a break from moving stuff, though.”

“Might be best. Ah, ya might want to give Drummond that call now.” The bear’s comment was sly, and Mike knew it wasn’t aimed at him. Freddy had only told of Drummond’s visit this morning, on the grounds that Mike hadn’t been well enough for that man’s garbage to bother with him. Mike had taken it in stride, knowing Freddy was only looking out for him. He just hoped Drummond wouldn’t be too pissed he had been kept waiting.

That aside, Mike also knew the normally welcoming bear had a sadistic streak a mile wide, and it was often taken out on Drummond. And any other adult unfortunate enough to cross the paths with Freddy.

“Good idea. How taxing could a phone call be?” Mike paused, suddenly caught with an image of his only known predecessor in the job. “…forget I said that.”

Freddy shot him a look, but Mike was already headed for the back door anyway. Sometimes it sucked not having a signal in the old building, and a lot of days the phone on his battery got absolutely murdered just trying to look for a tower. He hit dial on Drummond’s name just as he took a seat on the four cement steps that led down to the back parking lot.

Waiting for the line to pick up, Mike stared out over the sad block of cement with the faded paint lines. There were only two rows of spots; most of the prime parking was in the front, which made sense. Well, that, and this door was never unlocked during working hours. It used to be, but on that note, there were _a lot_ of lax safety measures the restaurant used to take that had caught up with them and left lasting damage. Now, the back door was locked from the inside, and only Mike and the chef had a key.

Finally, the dialing halted.

 _‘Hello?_ ’

“Heey Mr. Drummond, its Mike.”

_“Schmidt. About time you called me. What have you been up to over there? The fire didn’t do that much damage, I heard.”_

“Well, noo.” Mike took a breath. Gold’s grip would probably crush his cell phone if he Switched. Besides, he already a story lined up for the fallout of what happened when they went through the door into what Mike now assumed was Arthur’s mind.

“The Marionette got damaged…in the fire. He’s…he didn’t make it.” Mike finished rather lamely, feeling there ought to be more a build up for the courageous puppet that had saved their lives at the cost of its own.

 _“No? That’s too bad.”_ Mike tried not to look into the man’s cold tone too hard. He was of a different mindset, and had a different job than Mike did. And certainly, and this thought was how Mike was able to keep his temper, a different opinion of the restaurant’s animatronic workers. _“It isn’t salvageable at all for parts? I suppose we could just get a new one built.”_

Mike’s hand shook. “You can’t replace him!” He shouted hotly, then stopped himself before Gold made him growl. “I mean, _no_ , sir. He was already so old, it wouldn’t work. The restaurant is closed obviously, for now. We don’t have to worry about the Prize Counter until then.”

Not that Mike particularly gave a flying rat’s ass about _who_ was going to run the Prize Counter in Mari’s place. But he could tell that was about all Drummond would be concerned about.

_“Good point. Even if the restaurant does get opened back up, the Prize counter will still be a little problem.”_

“Why did you say _if_?” Mike asked slowly.

 _“There’s been some shady things going on at that place, Schmidt. You’re no stranger to it.”_ Drummond didn’t know the half of it _._ You couldn’t get much shadier than the ghost of an old suit haunting your own bones. _“But the biggest thing is what happened to that horror attraction. Fazbear’s…what was it? Night?”_

“Fazbear’s Fright.” Mike corrected, feeling dread start to seep into his already tired limbs. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

 _“Yes. That’s the one. They contact us. Ask for some robots. And then the place gets set on fire? The day you visited?”_ Drummond sounded mildly bothered, if a little accusatory.

“Right, but I—“

 _“We’re being investigated.”_ There was a pause. _“Or should I say, YOU are.”_

“Er, yes sir. I didn’t have anything to do with that fire, though.” Well, that WAS the truth. Gold and the spirit of the murderer had started it, or maybe it was just the faulty equipment that had been the cause.

But then, if it had been that last one, there wouldn’t be any cause for suspicion in the first place. Mike swallowed, trying to ignore the dry clicking in his throat.

 _“Oh, I know that Schmidt. I do believe it was an accident, but the fire department doesn’t think so and the cops sure as hell don’t.”_ Drummond cleared his throat, _“You answer their questions, whoever shows up that is. And try and keep the pizzeria out of the limelight, would you? We can’t afford all this bad publicity.”_

“We can barely afford any publicity.” Mike mumbled to the cement.       

Come to think of it, there had been a fire here too. Had it been coincidence? How had Nightmare Chica known?

For some reason, this thought scared Mike more than the thought of some Detective coming to investigate him. He made a mental note to tell the others, lest they get the wrong idea and treat the detective like they treated every _other_ night guard who had walked through those doors. Swallowing nervously once more, Mike tuned into whatever Drummond was saying now.

 _“Just try not to go starting any fires yourself, alright Schmidt? We’re hanging by a thread as it is.”_ Drummond snapped crisply.

“Uh, yes’sir.” Mike was instantly glad he wasn’t in the vicinity of the robots to have them hear that. As far as they were concerned, Mike didn’t call any one sir. It was the other way around or else.

Mike hung up and let his little fold up cell hit the step beside him. Laying his face in his hands, he rubbed into the sockets, trying to get out the ache that was threatening a full blown migraine back there. They didn’t need this right now. Mike wasn’t really sure what the restaurant needed anymore, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. He didn’t go inside for a long while, because he knew his first instinct would have been to go to the now silent present box still sitting in his office.

For the first time since Mike started this godforsaken job, there would be no listening ear and warm advice waiting for him, and that was the worst thing of all.

* * *

Plushtrap was pretty happy for a ghost bunny.

Interestingly, he was tangible as ever after crossing through the Door and ending up in this strange new place.

He trotted over the black and white tiles, peeking in and out of rooms curiously. The place was quiet, and dark, but Plushtrap didn’t really need light to see. His ears bobbed as he wandered into a room with lots of tables and a big old stage. Upon further inspection, they were deemed just as boring as everything else he had encountered. Worst of all, none of the rooms where a good layout for his Game. Not disheartened in the least, Plushtrap wandered on.

Why was this place so empty?

Not that he had much comparison, considering he lived in a place devoid of humans himself save for one, but. Still! This seemed like the sort of building that _should_ be filled with souls. Where were they? Had they been eaten, like the little boy had? He hoped not. The bunny became acutely aware of a little moving box in the upper corners of the rooms. There was even a few in the long hall he was headed down. His ears pricked toward it cautiously, but it made no move or threatening disturbance to cause him to scatter under the nearest table. Giving a few absent minded chomps with his needle long teeth, the tattered bunny avoided the sweep of the cameras on instinct. It seemed like the best idea for survival.

Plushtrap wasn’t sure why or how he knew this, but he also wasn’t too concerned by it.

Thoroughly bored by now, he ambled entirely past two double wide swinging doors that were blocked with tape. This would have been the most exciting room for him, no doubt, but it was too late now. Following a strip of tile led him past the bathrooms, and down an even thinner hallway. The little yellowed rabbit paused at the start of it, considering his options. It was almost identical to _his_ hallway!

This would be a _great_ place for the Game!

Though it lacked any open rooms for him to duck into, which was a shame. There was one room at the end of the hall, light streaming out into the darkness. Plushtrap wandered down the long hall, looking around for any good hiding spots. He peeked around the threshold into the tiny room. The bunny paused as it noticed the large white present box sitting on the desk. The bow was faded and limp, the walls rather thin and crumpled in some parts. Again, Plushtrap chomped his teeth up at it, almost hopefully. It was his only way to communicate.

But when nothing happened, he turned his attention away from the present box.

Not much else besides that to be found there, except…a chair—perfect!—and another door into yet another hall. This one had more doors, closed though they were, so Plushtrap pushed the chair into that hall. He backed it up to the end, its wheels squeaking, and hopped on it.

He was so excited; he nearly forgot to go limp when he heard footsteps approaching.

* * *

“Hey, kid.”

“Dan. Ee. _Danny_ , you bucket of bolts!”

“Like I said, kid.” Bonnie made an amused noise as Danny threw up his hands and made an aggravated noise. “Take these plates and stuff into the Prize Room, okay?”

“All this stuff is from the kitchen?” At Bonnie’s nod, Danny looked impressed. “Wow, you guys got this place packed up fast.”

“Robot, remember? We don’t need breaks like _you_ little fleshbags do.” A giant purple paw poked Danny’s shoulder playfully, and he swatted it away.

“Get out of here!” Danny laughed, dodging another half hearted swipe from a paw that was about as wide as his entire head. “Just these, then?”

“Yeah. Should be able to do it in one trip.” Bonnie jerked a thumb at Foxy. “I’d ask Captain Kitty to do it. But he can’t carry nothing with that hook.”

“I be a _fox_ , ya varmit!” Foxy snarled, “An, it don’t take two hands ta skin yer suit off that blasted mouth a yers, rabbit!” He brandished his hook and abandoned the job he was doing to clean the top of the stove. The soggy, slightly dripping yellow sponge pushed onto Foxy’s bronze hook took some of the intimidation out of the threat, though Danny wisely didn’t comment on this. Bonnie’s ears bobbed as he mocked the fox right back.

“Oh yeah? C’mere and say that, you old seadog!”

Danny snorted, but hurriedly stacked the boxes—whoa, _heavy_ —and scooted from the vicinity. For one, he did _not_ want to get in the line of fire if Freddy showed up and scolded them. Second? No matter how friendly he was with Bonnie, Danny wasn’t sure he would ever not jump when Foxy growled, or Freddy glared. The rest of them still freaked him out, just enough. It was in the eyes, Danny assumed. Though the noises they made didn’t help much either. Rolling a shoulder to soothe the shiver from his shoulderblades, the teen headed toward the Prize room like Bonnie had instructed.

Danny was carrying too many boxes to see properly.

Because of this—and because Fate likes to smile because she rolls dice when everyone else is playing chess—Danny did not, _could not_ , notice when he walked over a threshold and out of this world.

And into the next.

By the time he recognized the dark hall, the sizzling gold line was already sealing the door back into reality.

“Bonnie?”

Boxes went crashing to the floor, but it was too late. Danny whirled in place, thoroughly panicked now.

“Bonnie! Help!”

The teen scrambled clumsily to the doorway, grabbing at the wooden frame and tugging. The thick oak didn’t budge, and no golden glow came to his rescue. He was back in that Other World, the Mindscape, his boss had called it.

He was back in this strange and dangerous Hell, and he was alone. It was his worst nightmare come to life.

_“BONNIE!”_

And, well. All that shouting _had_ gotten the attention of Bonnie.

Just… _not_ the Bonnie Danny was calling for.

The teen felt more than heard the Nightmare Bonnie coming up toward Plushtrap’s abandoned hall. It just so happened that the hall to Plusthrap’s territory was connected to the same side Bonnie skulked around. It was sheer coincidence, and Danny thought he was going to throw up when he realized that all his shouting had gotten him nothing but a one way ticket to being mauled, or worse.

One look at those swiveling ears aimed at him, and Danny’s stomach raced his heart to take up residence in his throat. Those horrifying eyes gleamed from the murky black as the rotted rabbit’s figure was caught by the light. Nightmare Bonnie lurched closer, hissing between large sharp teeth, and Danny let out a low whine. He had nowhere to run, and any place to hide in this dinky little hall suddenly seemed useless when he remembered the rabbit’s ability to find things. And just like that, Danny understood how the anaimatronic traits could be deadly as they were cool.

God, he was going to _die_.

The kid couldn’t help but cling to some semblance of hope. Something about those sizzling white eyes was making something stir in the pit of his stomach. Something _besides_ the growing fear, to be more exact. All the air left the kid’s lungs and he forgot to inhale to refill them. Tiny little white spots danced in the corners of his vision. It was just him and this two ton purple rabbit, with the glowing white, should-be-red eyes. Those eyes…

Something—

_The feel of his hand gripping a thick, stubby purple crayon as he lay belly down on the cool floor, surrounded on three sides in the enclosed shelter of the large desk. The low footfalls of some gargantuan creature as its wide purple paws slapped the floor. If he peeked out, he could see who was coming to the office, and the toddler squealed and bolted out from under the desk. With any of the others he ran and hid, but not for this one. His father’s laughter and then his little, barely walking toddler self as he bolted toward the visitor. Big thick legs, fur crinkling, pizza grease and motor oil hitting his nostrils. White pinpricks swiveled down to him and focused. Paws bigger than his torso spread down on either side of him, waiting only for him to run into them. Danny beelined right for—_

Was painfully familiar about those eyes.

Danny’s vision swam, his train of thought coming right off the tracks as he froze.

_Purple._

_Ears._

_Paws._

_— **Bonnie**. _

Danny’s jaw went slack.

This new information didn’t exactly save him, no matter how interesting it was. Mostly because the Nightmare visage of his friend—his long lost best friend, to be exact—was still staring at him and making threatening, low noises. Despite this, Nightmare Bon had yet to make a move. He seemed more calculating than Nightmare Chica had been. That, or maybe he simply hadn’t ever seen a human like Danny, and didn’t know what to make of the tall teen just yet. Plushtrap certainly didn’t seem to know back then, come to think of it.

Danny swallowed and slid back until his weight rested on his back heel. If he had to bolt, he wanted to be ready. He fought a shiver, those white eyes weren’t the same ones he had grown up around, Danny knew that much. Just because the horrifying monster had jogged his memory, didn’t make this Bonnie and the original one in the same. There were two of him, and Chica.

But only one of the puppet and BB.

Something nagged the back of the teen’s brain, but before anyone else could make a move…

The floor shook.

Bonnie turned to look to his right at the approaching noise, while Danny slipped without a noise into one of the black, empty rooms. Just in time too, because as he ducked down to peek out, the same black bear that had torn apart the Marionette came from seemingly nowhere. Danny clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent any noises, noticing for the first time that Nightmare Bonnie suddenly seemed…hesitant. Nightmare snarled at the other, then unceremoniously grabbed Bonnie by one of those long ears and bodily threw the fellow monster into the wall.

“WHAT DID I SAY? ABOUT LEAVING YOUR SPOT?” His roar was partly obscured by the crashing noise the Nightmare rabbit made when it landed, but it was nevertheless effective. Nightmare Bonnie let out a garbled noise, almost like a yelp.

The rabbit didn’t—or couldn’t—answer in any language Danny understood. Nightmare Bonnie did make a couple warbling growls, though they sounded uncharacteristically meek. And those piercing white optics were trained submissively on the floor. Nightmare seemed satisfied—or a little less pissed off, anyway—and settled for one final kick to the side of the rabbit’s head. An ear went tumbling, sparks flying briefly as the Nightmare Bonnie wobbled dangerously and tried uselessly to get to its feet. The ear stopped with a dull thud, as fate would have it, much closer to Danny than Nightmare Bonnie.

Danny watched this, having to tense himself to not speak against the unfair brutality. It was then he remembered a conversation he’d had with the real Bonnie less than a week ago.

_“How come you move your ears so much when you move?”_

_“Eh, it’s kind of an automaton feature, kid.” A gesture to his flat feet and then up to his ears as they cranked comically. “I mean, I walk fine with them both, true. But ya take one ear away and I’ll be top heavy. No counter-balance.”_

_“They are pretty big,” Danny had laughed as he watched one flick toward a far off noise._

_Bonnie had chuckled, making his ears wag on purpose at the kid playfully. “Biggest ears in the west, Tex.”_

Well, it seemed Nightmare Bonnie suffered from the same weakness too. The ragged, torn body was tipping precariously on the side the ear had fallen off, and it couldn’t find the balance to stand. Every time it got a knee under it, the bunny swayed dangerously away from the wall it was trying to lean on and had to start all over again. It was kind of pathetic, and suddenly the bunny didn’t seem so scary. Just…lost. Danny chewed his lip, glancing between the discarded ear and the rest of the animatronic to which it belonged. Stubby clawed fingers gouged the carpeting uselessly, searching for the missing ear that was out of its grasp.

Finally, Danny pushed out of the hall and tip-toed slowly toward Nightmare Bonnie.

White eyes tracked the teen, who stooped to pick up the broken off ear.

A low growl escaped the back of the rabbit’s throat, but Danny steeled himself. Keeping his boss in mind, he took slow, careful steps toward the downed nightmare animatronic. Eye contact. Be honest.

Breathe.

“Uh…here…” The ear was set on the floor, and toed into the deadly reach of Nightmare Bon’s drill-like fingers. Better he lose a foot than a hand if the monster should strike. At a loss for what to do, Danny rambled.

“You shouldn’t let him treat you like that.” Danny stumbled over his tongue. He glared at the hallway Nightmare had vanished down. “He’s just a _bully_. Bullies are jerks, okay? And…and they’re afraid of something, too. That’s why they act like they do, cause they’re scared.”

But the rabbit merely stared at him, then down at its ear.

With slow, careful movement, Nightmare Bonnie grabbed the ear and raised it to his head.

After a moment, during which Danny could only stare in fascinated horror, the ear had attached itself. Servos whined as the ear cranked in tune with its twin. Left, right, side to side, back, forward. Once Nightmare Bonnie seemed satisfied with the repair, it started to get up again. This time, it moved much faster, albeit lacking any grace. But the motor control was back, and it occurred dimly to the teen he had just given the Hunter a chance to prey on the Hunted, which was him. Great job, Fitzgerald.

Regret threatened to swallow Danny whole as he realized how _tall_ the rabbit was. And how close he happened to be standing.

“Uh, eh…” The teen breathed, backing up against the wall and trying to manage a smile. “Nice…bunny—Bonnie—“

And, _oh_. This gets a new reaction. The monster lifts its head, the gesture subtle and almost imperceptible. But Danny caught it, by trick of the light or by chance, he didn’t know. All he knew was that Nightmare Bonnie knew its own name. At least, part of it. Emboldened in the way teens sometimes foolishly are, Danny took a step forward.

“Bon?”

This time, the Nightmare rabbit made a clicking noise by shutting its jaw once. The soft noise was less threatening and more questioning. When Danny stared back, his fingers curling nervously, the rabbit tilted its head back and gave an almost brutal, low noise. Surprisingly, it sounded like it started with a B sound, and ended with a long eee. When the noise had finished, Nightmare Bonnie was looking down at him again, one ear leaning forward. The horrifying monster looked almost expectant.

“Huh.” Danny hadn’t even noticed the tension was easing from his shoulders, or the little look of confusion and wonder.

Mindless, horrible killers? Maybe not...totally.

At the very least, the rabbit understood when he owed someone.

Danny tore his gaze from those glowing eyes and down to stare level through the robot’s exposed torso. Coils, cogs and wires jutted and tangled within the monster’s body. It was a miracle the bunny was moving at all, let alone with as much control as it seemed to posses. After all, the Nightmare had been able to sneak up on him relatively easy. Danny shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn’t turned around in time. Mike was right; this job _did_ give you reflexes video game players would be jealous of. The rabbit’s jaw couldn’t seem to close all the way, must have something to do with the rot of its suit and the strange amalgamation of teeth the bunny possessed.

A frog croaked woefully somewhere to their right, and Danny watched in astonishment as the Nightmare Bonnie—no longer deeming Danny a threat or a thing to hunt, apparently—turned to look out the window curiously. Danny looked too, but he couldn’t see much from the angle he was at.

Well, they couldn’t stand here all night. (Just then, the teen had the worrisome feeling that time did not pass it was supposed to here, which would be bad.) He edged back into the room he had entered by, marked only by the mess of boxes lying on the floor from the pizzeria. The teen stooped to right a few, stacking the lightest on top in an effort to make himself seem busy.

When Danny gets to the last one, which was by his waist and caused him to twist toward the door, he notices the gleaming pinpricks looming down from the threshold.

Damn, how did that thing move so _stealthily_!?

Swallowing some air on accident in an attempt to soothe his rattled nerves—maybe the Nightmare animatronics only attacked if you acted like something they ought to attack?—the dark blonde teen continued his action of grabbing the box. He tipped it right side up, before slowly putting it atop its siblings.

With Nightmare Bonnie’s back to what little light there is, Danny can see the damage to his suit just a little bit better. Either claws or rot had eaten away the fur, exposing limbs, fingers and one foot. To name a few places. There was a section of his head that was nothing but a big hole, and the same ear that had come off so easy didn’t look much better than when it had started. One wrong move and it looked like it would come off again. Danny moved to sit back against his little impromptu fortress of boxes, for all the good they did. They wouldn’t slow down anything really determined to get him, but they might offer a few moments of distraction he could use.

The rabbits’ strange black whiskers—almost comical in their placement and pose, but for some reason mimicked the cords sneaking from his haggard, torn body—remained stiff as he leaned into the room. One ear was cocked again, which Danny correctly interpreted as curiosity.

“It’s okay.” Danny coaxed softly before realizing he had said anything at all.

Nightmare Bonnie spared him a quick glance at these words, and answered with a long drawling thrum. Somehow, the nightmare’s noises are as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. Danny realized distantly, feeling just a bit lightheaded, that no wonder he understands the animatronic in this state. If he was used to the faceless original when he was barely able to speak himself, no wonder. He couldn’t put his finger on why the Bonnie he remembers didn’t have a face, but that was certainly more incentive to get the hell out of here, and live to ask Bonnie. What bothered him more was that the Nightmares understood human speech.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get back to, I dunno, the pizzeria? _Earth_?” He tried, feeling lame. How could he explain this to the animatronic…

Nightmare Bonnie lowered his optics at him fully, and this time rolled its massive head to the right shoulder, ears swinging.

“Taking that as a ‘no,’” Danny sighed, briefly disappointed. As relieved as he was that Nightmare Bonnie didn’t seem out to shish-cabob him, what the kid really wanted was a way to get back to the restaurant. But only BalloonBoy and Nightmare could open Doors, it seemed.

And the Marionette was long gone…

With a frustrated groan, Danny tugged at his hair and rested his arms on his knees, sitting among the assorted paraphernalia from the restaurant’s kitchen.

Nightmare Bonnie’s ears crooked toward him at the noise, and the towering bunny took a few steps closer. Adrenaline fading and leaving him drained, Danny only quivered a little bit. He bucked up his courage and tried a smile.

“It’s okay.” He repeated again, in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “You wanna, uh, hang out with me for a while?”

For a second, he wasn’t sure Nightmare Bonnie was going to respond. Until a sudden noise, a low trilling warble through those clenched teeth sounded. Danny stared a second, before realizing this was, apparently, a friendly agreement. That, and the Nightmare rabbit was hauling itself closer, but not angrily. It seemed a little calm, all things considered.

Well, looking and being were two different things, and Danny was wise to not forget that too quick.

“Right. Uh, A for effort, dude.”

Nightmare Bonnie only seemed a fluid creature when stalking, because now it was walking with the normal, sheer exertion the normal Bonnie possessed. This familiar sight caused Danny to relax, if only just a fraction more.

The Nightmare rabbit slid down the wall with obvious effort. Long legs stuck out, the pose eerily similar to the same one the human was now resting in. The floor shook from the sudden plop the giant robot did as he landed, and the teen’s teeth still rattled. Danny looked behind Nightmare Bonnie, wincing at the dent in the plaster it had left when it mimicked his slouch against and down the wall. The teen lifted his gaze to see Nightmare Bon staring at him rather expectantly, ears up and eye sockets raised on the bottom. If you covered the rows of deadly teeth, the bunny almost looked like he was smiling as if to say ‘See? I can do this too!’ But a thought struck Danny, and he asked curiously,

“…do you know how to get back up?”

Nightmare Bonnie’s expression dropped to one of quizzical concern and realization at that, his great head lowered to stare at his spread out limbs. Both silently came to the same conclusion that, no. He did not know how, and for some reason this was sort of funny to the teen. The teen hid his laughter but couldn’t quite contain a small smile.

“So we’ll just…just sit here. And, uh. Enjoy each other’s company.” Danny spoke quietly, deciding not to address the stuck robot in the room just yet.

“And just hope Nightmare doesn’t come back.” The teen muttered quietly to the bunny.

Nightmare Bonnie made a chopped ‘sshing’ snort that Danny took as disgust when Nightmare was mentioned. Danny didn’t blame him, and was a little relieved to have a common enemy.


	11. The Past Comes Back to Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Plushtrap Pursuit  
> *Mike's plan is not accepted well this time  
> *Someone's in the kitchen with Danny

**ACT II**

**  
Chapter 11. The Past Comes Back to Bite**

Mike stood in the restaurant, watching over it happily.

The chatter and bustle of the patrons was making the walls almost glow with happiness. Mike had to admit he felt the same, and he turned his head to get a better sweep of the area. He made a mental note to check Freddy’s gears, because he could hear the bear moving all the way from here, but that wasn’t a huge issue. It could wait until after closing, easily. He inhaled, wondered why he couldn’t smell the pizza from the kitchen. That was a little odd, but on his next look that big bow caught his eye as it lifted up.

 _‘Mari!_ ’ He went to cry out as he watched his friend rise from its box and bend over to hear a child’s request. Right, it was working hours, and the puppet was running the Prize Counter like usual. What else _would_ the puppet be doing? Mike wanted to talk to him though, wanted to hear that voice again and ask how he fixed himself after Nightmare destroyed him.

But the little guy was so far away!

So Mike went to walk over, only to become distinctly aware _he_ _could not move his legs._ Let along lift them. Very odd. The young man looked down—it was terribly slow and strenuous, and all it yielded him was a look at two giant yellow feet anchored to a faded wooden stage. The noises of gears was loud as ever as Mike forced his head up, and the entire action was heavy as molasses. The Marionette was still helping the kid, a little boy in a black and grey striped shirt. The hair looked vaguely familiar, but the skin color was throwing Mike off. The puppet handed over a little yellow Freddy plush, with its own purple bow.

Other than that, Mari was silent and robotic.

Another attempt at deviating from Mike’s strange, sudden stand still pose, to no luck. Servos whined pathetically, Mike cried out as loud as he could manage, but it was no use.

_‘Wait, Mari! Hey, it’s me!’_

Mike moved his head laboriously to his left, noticing Springtrap with his guitar. The young man’s stomach sank and his heart felt like it was being crushed. No, no this _was_ real, it was! It had to be! It couldn’t just be a dream, or a memory!

Helplessly, still stuck inside the body of Golden Freddy, Mike watched the puppet withdraw mechanically into its box.

 _‘No! No, Mari! I’m right here! Please!’_ Mike’s cries fell into louder and louder pleas. He couldn’t make his face do anything but turn, open jaw, close jaw. Repeat. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, he wanted the puppet to sweep in and make everything okay again, he wanted—

The lid closed, just as Mike’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t realized he was shouting until he was halfway sitting up. The memories came back to him, all at once with the force of one of Freddy’s punches.

Mike was in Parts and Services, having fallen asleep at the work bench with a screw driver still in his hand. He sat up slowly, running a quivering hand through his sloppy hair.

‘ _Ah, do forgive me, Michael._ ’ Gold’s voice droned between his ears. ‘ _I was daydreaming. I didn’t think ya could hear me.’_

“Th…that was you?” Mike breathed, still shaken and disorientated.

 _‘Not in so many words.’_ Gold did sound a little regretful, and very sheepish. _‘That was a couple weeks before the party. Before the bite, before poor Arthur…’_

Guilt knawed at the night guard’s stomach as he abandoned his work. “Right. Arthur.” He could still remember the fear emanating from that fluttering soul as Nightmare grabbed it.

“What’s going to happen to him now?” Mike asked, wondering if Gold was still awake to hear him. The answer took a few seconds, but it had nothing to do with Gold going back to that strange sleep he did beneath the young man’s skin and everything to do with hesitancy.

_“He’s prolly back to playing the nights with Nightmare. Whoever controls Arthur controls his powers, yanno.’_

Mike exhaled shakily, nodding. “Uh, yeah,’ He said, when he realized Gold couldn’t see him nod. “I, I wondered. Is there...what can I do? To fix this?”

_‘When I think of something, you’ll be the second to know, Michael.”_

Mike gave a frustrated sigh, but let the subject drop. As long as he stayed awake, hopefully any of Gold’s thoughts wouldn’t turn into nightmares for him.

Thankfully, his luck held out. Now that he was more awake Gold seemed less influential on his train of thought, and his mind was his own again. With Gold ‘asleep’ and unable to focus on what he started before falling asleep, Mike wandered out of Parts and Services. He didn’t bother locking it, since the restaurant was deserted except for him and the bots. Danny might still be here too, but Mike wasn’t too concerned. Bonnie would be with him.

It was at that moment, just as he turned into the West Hall, Mike felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

But the hall was empty.

Well, now that was new. Not so much his new found sensitivity, more so that his spidey senses were tingling without so much as a how-do. Was Gold reacting to something only he could feel? Mike received no answers, verbal or otherwise, but he still slowed his pace. Finally, he stopped, staring down the too-dark hallway. _He_ didn’t have the night vision, Gold did. Maybe the old bear was too tired to switch, maybe it was still ‘thinking.’ Whatever the reason, Mike’s sense of unease grew and he nearly thought about yelling for Freddy.

Well, he _really_ thought about yelling for the puppet, first, but.

Mike pushed that thought away. He couldn’t grieve right now. There was too much to be done and now he felt like eyes were on him when he couldn’t see a damn thing. Wide blue eyes swept the immediate surroundings. Wall, door, wall, drawings, security camera—

The camera! The red light was on.

That was…odd.

Mike stood there, heart going a mile a minute and distantly relieved. The camera was on, that was all.

…except Danny didn’t carry the tablet when Mike was here. For that matter, Danny should have gone home about an hour ago. Mike had left the tablet in the Office before heading over to Parts and Services.

Well, fuck.

It took a second, but Mike finally forced his legs forward, heading slowly toward the little room. Really, it could have just been one of the bots, but they had no reason to be using the cameras. Not even as a joke, to be honest.

He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he felt it all rush out of him at once. On a deep cultivated instinct, the kind you pick up for sheer survival, the night guard switched to short, soft breaths to keep his heart rate up and the silence going. He wanted to be ready to sprint or change, whatever the moment called for. Shifting all his weight to the ball of his left foot, Mike stopped just by the door to his office and crouched a little. See, anyone—anyone being a tall, towering animatronic—looking for you expected you at eye level with them. If he choose a much lower angle he had a higher chance of not being spotted. Mike leaned round the corner a fraction, peeking into the cramped room.

And there was Plushtrap, staring back at him.

Mike’s heart leapt to his throat and he jumped—out of shock than any real fear, though. Gold stirred, half awake but not leaping to the front just yet. It was terror that spurned Mike’s other half, not casual surprises. That, and the old entity was still tired from the day before it seemed.

“P—Plushtrap!?” Mike’s tone was accusatory as it was startled. He stood in the doorway, trying to make sure he really was seeing what he thought he was.

The little bunny blinked innocently back, standing on the floor where Mike’s chair usually was. One quick glance and he found it sitting at the end of the hall in a rather familiar set up.

“Were you trying to play your game?” Mike asked, to which the bunny nodded eagerly, still holding the tablet.

“And you were…looking for someone to play with.” He stabbed at. Again, he received a nod, though Plushtrap set down the tablet, objective completed. It took a few steps toward the hall, presumably to get up in the chair. Mike stopped him with a look and a hand. “No, we’re not going to do this right now.” He said firmly. “I have a lot of work to do and—“

It was then Mike noticed the little blue piece of plastic in one of the bunny’s grubby paws.

“H-hey, is that Mari’s—I mean, my Gameboy?!” Something close to anger bubbled in the tired guard’s chest, and he took a threatening step toward Plushtrap without even realizing it.

Plushtrap stepped back on cue, childishly tucking the handheld device behind its torso. Its ears wiggled playfully, and Mike’s heart tightened.  That Gameboy was too precious to him, too delicate! What if the little snot _broke_ it?

“Give that back, Plushtrap!” Mike snapped. “Give it back right now, do you hear me?! That’s not yours!” He took a swipe but the bunny was faster, and scurried right out the East wing door and down the unlit hall.

“ _Hey_!” Mike bolted after the toy bot before he noticed the air crackling with unstable gold energy around him as he did so. He chased Plushtrap all the way to the bathrooms, where Mike blocked the small rabbit in and raised his arms threateningly.

 _“Give it_ , Plushtrap.” The night guard warned, taking another step. When Plushtrap backed up against a stall, Mike followed too. It was only until the bunny flinched Mike became aware of the raised fist he was holding up by his head.

And then he caught sight of how _frightened_ the little thing looked, and instantly Mike felt awful. The gold energy dissipated and relaxed, albeit reluctantly. His fist opened, his arm dropped, and Mike slumped.

“…I’m, I’m sorry. But I _really_ need that back, Plushtrap.” He lowered his voice even more, and flicked on the light so he seemed less intimidating looming in the darkness.

“Please?” He asked, but didn’t hold his hand out.

When the bunny didn’t respond, didn’t so much as twitch a big ear at him, Mike sagged more. He gave up, better to do so before he let his temper get the best of him again. Mike walked out of the bathroom and slid down the wall by the doorway, holding his head in his hands. He missed the Marionette so much; he was willing to hurt someone over an old Gameboy because of it!

That someone was a robot too, technically. Mike had sworn to _protect_ the robots of the pizzeria. He supposed, bitterly, that included all hallucinations and so, by association, Plushtrap too. His heart twanged in heavy emotion, just wishing that for one instant he had the puppet back on his side. He had no idea what he was doing, he was a night guard but not. A restaurant owner but also not, and a protector but a compass-less, and frightened one.  

Mike broke out of his reverie as a little weight settled on his crossed legs. He blinked down, distantly surprised to find Plushtrap has clambered boldly into his lap and made itself comfortable. Its large, toy head swiveled up to blink those big optics at him. Plushtrap seemed to be waiting for Mike to say or do something, maybe move him, maybe hug him. Mike didn’t know quite what he wanted, but the sudden weight of the toy robot is somehow reassuring.

Mike felt like he had a lot to say very suddenly, but finds that he can’t say any of it. It’s an odd emotion, not one he’s used to. So he gives in a little too deep rooted whims and relaxes against the wall, with Plushtrap perched on his legs like a little guard dog. Mike’s lips quirk at the mental picture, but he sobered up when he remembered what got them in this state. He looked down at the hand holding the GameBoy. Plushtrap followed his gaze, too.

“It…this belonged to the Marionette. Kind of.” Thankfully, Plushtrap doesn’t seem to mind the rasp or quiver of his quiet voice. “So it means a lot to me. It’s all I have left of his that isn’t…. _broken_.”

That word meant so much more to Mike know. It carried a scary definition. Up until now, Mike was confident in the fact his friends could be fix if they got broken or busted. Heck, they couldn’t even feel physical pain, so that was a plus too. A cracked mask might make Mike queasy, but it wouldn’t hurt Freddy. Maybe just his pride.

But the _thing_ in the present box back in his office?  Because those broken shards of wood were _not_ the Marionette, and Mike would argue with anyone who thought otherwise. That wasn’t something he, or Gold, or any of them could fix. Mike knew it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to admit it.

Plushtrap’s little paw was back on the Gameboy—albeit just resting—and Mike sees a sharp, inquisitive look from the miniature bunny.

“Oh, you wanna see what it does?” That might help take his mind off…well, everything. “Sure, hang on.”

So Mike booted up the little handheld device, waiting patiently as Plushtrap watched the loading cinematic for Pokemon’s Fire Red with obvious awe and interest. It occurred, while Mike watched Plushtrap, that he had never really kept tabs on whatever the Marionette was up to in the game when it was playing. It had been months, though he did know the puppet had completed the game at least twice now. He just assumed the puppet started over again, but maybe not. When the title screen came up, his thumbs pushed the buttons, loading the save file. His lips quirked at the trainer’s name.

_‘Arthur.’_

“So, you just explore and raise these creatures, in this little world. Hang on, let me see something.” Plushtrap watched dutifully, at least until Mike paused when he was showing ‘Arthur’s’ current team. The night guard was really curious as to what sort of pokemon the Marionette—or was it Arthur?—choose to play with.

A Vulpix, named Foxy. A Pidgeot, that was Chica. Azumaril…Bonnie, heh. And an Ursaring for Freddy. Mike had to congratulate the puppet on that one, though he suspected some of that freaky magic was at work, since he couldn’t recall if that particular pokemon was even in this game. At least not without another cartridge and system, both of which Mike didn’t have.

But the last pokemon was what made Mike pause, and settle into silence.

The last pokemon on the team, at level 100, was nothing more than a Charizard. One of the first pokemon you encountered in the game, in fact. The rest of the team was several levels below this one, hinting that it got the most attention and training.

Its nickname was Mikey.

Mike jerked a little when a grubby paw rested over his hand and the screen. Plushtrap was watching him curiously, ears pricked.

“Uh…it’s, it’s nothing.” He managed a weary smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. He killed the power on the Gameboy, tucking it away into his pocket as he shooed Plushtrap from his lap and made to stand. It sort of worked, except Plushtrap clung to his hip and plonked on his shoulder like it owned the spot.

“Pfft. Please. Make yourself at home.” Mike commented dryly as he headed for the kitchen. Plushtrap chomped its over sized teeth rather merrily, apparently unphased—or downright ignoring—Mike’s sarcasm. He realized what the bunny was up to quickly; he had a higher vantage point like this to see the rest of the restaurant.

“Clever rabbit.” He praised under his breath.

* * *

Mike’s muscles creaked when he moved. He walked into the kitchen without really thinking there was anything ‘off’ about him, but he had forgotten to account for one thing.

And the over protective brown bear was a very big thing, and very dangerous, when the mood struck him.

“Uh. Son?”

“Yeah, big guy?”

“ _Ahhh_!!” That was Bonnie, who screamed rather convincingly and bolted behind Foxy. The pirate just stood there, now holding a plank of wood by himself with some difficulty. Chica stared at Bonnie, then at Mike’s little tagalong, still perched on him. Plushtrap leaned over Mike’s head and chomped the air toward Bonnie, who was a pair of ears behind a big red fox.

“It’s that _thing_! Mike, what’s it doing here?! Did anything else get through!?” So that’s why Bonnie was afraid! Mike looked worried, lips stretching comically as he turned to try and look at Plush best he could.

“That’s a good idea, Bon. I don’t…think so? Uh, Trap?”

The bunny leaned down to stare at him. “You were the only to come through into the restaurant, right? No one else went through the doorway?”

The bunny shook its head after a moment. That’s the only response Mike got, before it was snatched up by its scruff by a big brown paw.

“Can’t say I like stowaways. Against the rules.” Freddy’s tone was darker than usual, and he ignored the feeble attempts at freedom by the little rabbit.

“No rouge animatronics on my watch, ya hear, hare?” Freddy growled at the small bunny, who had the decency to cower a bit.

“Woah, Freddy!” Mike saw Plushtrap’s big ears shaking, and it hit every protective nerve in his body. “Stand down, it’s okay!” He grabbed the smaller bot from the leader and set Plushtrap down. The bunny bolted behind Mike’s legs. After a moment, the tiny bunny glared up at the bear in sheer, rather adorable, defiance.

“Mike…” Fred’s tone was filled with warning. “That thing is from the Other Side. _Arthur’s_ side.”

“Yeah, but look how small he is!” Mike defended, “He can’t do any harm! Well, he stole my Gameboy but I got it back…”

“An’what’re ya gunna do when that detective comes this afternoon?” Fazbear asked, folding his arms over his chest and adding to his already impressive girth.

“Ahh…” Mike winced. “Hadn’t quite gotten that far ahead. But I mean, he should blend in just fine. This place is filled with robots a lot bigger than him.”

“Yeah, but WE belong here.” Bonnie muttered to Foxy, who looked inclined to agree. At least until he got a good look at the little world hopper.

 “Kinda reminds me of ole Springtrap.” Foxy had set down the wood, abandoned Bonnie and wandered over curiously to inspect the little bugger hiding behind their night guard’s legs.

“Perhaps a bit smaller, o’course.”

 _“Perhaps?”_ Bonnie squawked.

“Right?” Mike answered Foxy with a smile, so he missed the knowing, rather sad look from Fazbear. Freddy knew how sore that subject still was; the wound that was Springtrap’s death. Even if Mike shouldn’t, he was still dwelling on it. Freddy sighed.

“If yer letting ‘im stay, we’ll let him too.”

“Thanks big guy—and don’t worry! He’ll be my responsibility.” Mike promised, crossing his heart in a little ‘X’ to seal the deal. Freddy shook his large head fondly and stomped back over to his work.

“I hope so. He’s a lot faster than any of us.” Bonnie recalled worriedly. The big blue rabbit suddenly fake lunged, but his headlight eyes gleamed on.

Plushtrap didn’t so much as twitch an ear, though he did look at Bonnie as if he were a touch concerned for his mental wellbeing.

Bonnie drew back, looking thoroughly disappointed. “Aw. I was hopin that would work.”

“Enough goofin around, rabbit.” Foxy berated, going back to the wooden board. “Gimme a paw with this, summa’use only have one mitt ta work with.”

Bonnie snorted but, turned away from Plushtrap dismissively. Now that the threat of any other nightmares was gone, the rabbit was back to his usual brash self. “Don’t blame me you got the short end of the stick, Captain Fuzzy.”

Mike rolled his eyes but left the kitchen, entering the Dining Room. He wasn’t terribly surprised to hear the tiny patter of muffled feet behind him as he excited. Nor the sudden weight as Plushtrap scaled his leg, hip and finally settled back on his shoulder. It was looking around incredibly eagerly, and Mike realized it had probably never seen so much furniture.

“ _This_ is Dining Hall, Trap.” Mike filled in. “See? That’s the stage where the gang plays. Kids sit at these tables, and there’s some booths…” He looked around, feeling his sense of pride damper slightly by the sight of the dark corners and shady, spotty lighting at best. It could also use a good mopping after all the crap the work crew drugged in.

“Yeah. This is it.” He tried to force some cheerfulness into his tone, best he could. “Freddy Fazbear’s. Where fun and fantasy… _used_ to come to life.”

He was torn from his thoughts when he felt Plushtrap tugging on his collar. Mike twisted to see whatever it was the bunny was pointing at.

“Oh, the arcade games? Yeah, you wanna see those?” A good distraction!

But a bigger one was suddenly pulling into the parking lot. And the flash of lights sent errant strokes of white across the wall, coming through the front glass doors. Mike caught the beams of the patrol car and his stomach sank to his feet.

Leaving a thoroughly distracted Plushtrap on ‘Bonnie’s Guitar Smash,’ Mike went to the double doors and peered out.

“Uh… _guys_?” He raised his voice, calling over his shoulder. “Staff meeting.” He sounded uncertain and uneasy, which explained why everyone from Fazbear to BB soon ended up in the Dining Room.

It became quickly evident the cop in the patrol car had no intention of coming inside. He had parked in the second row, so asphalt stretched between him and the little gloomy building now sitting in the twilight. The man wore a brown duster that shielded most of his face, and the black lenses didn’t help Mike’s growing nerves. Sunglasses-cop spotted Mike through the double wide glass, and made a come hither nod with a tilt of his chin. He leaned against his car with folded arms, a very lazy ‘I have all day’ air about him that instantly worried the night guard for some reason.

The detective wasn’t coming inside? There went any home field advantage. Still, it was better than being called down to the station. The animatronics would have had a field day with that, Mike knew.

“…what’yre ya thinkin bout, Michael?” Freddy asked in his slow, southern drawl. “Sometimes ya look like the cat that swallowed the canary. Right now ya just look like the canary.”

“He wants to meet outside.”

“…well tha’ain’t gunna happen.” Freddy answered immediately, and Mike couldn’t fault the bear’s thinking.

“But if I _make_ him come in here, it might look suspicious.” Mike argued weakly, rubbing his arm. “As far as he’s concerned, I went alone to that horror attraction.”

“Aye, I’ll crack the man like a jammed servo!” The equivalent to a human’s back cracking. Foxy even made the motion, thankfully he wasn’t standing anywhere near the entrance. Mike smacked his palm to his forehead and muttered,

“Foxy, _please_ don’t.”

The fox looked disappointed, but lowered his hook.

“Want us to go with you?” Freddy asked, ever the worrier.

“No. No, I did this.” Mike shook his head. “I screwed up on my own. I’m going to face him on my own.”

“How very Cameron Frye of you.”

“Oh my go—Bonnie, no more 80’s movie nights for you.”

He hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

“Ah still don’ like this, son.” Freddy said as they followed him to the glass doors.

“What’s the big deal? Mike’s got Gold with him.” Bonnie asked his best friend.

“And switching suits on him like that is bound to make things worse for us, Bonnie. Police want facts and truth, like Drummond. Not…magic and mayhem and _Gold_.” Mike peeked at the cop car sitting there. “Just like Drummond. Only he’s packing heat, and could do way more damage than just fire me.”

“Precisely why I don’want you out there _alone_ , Michael.” Freddy growled, but it wasn’t aimed at any of them. “It ain’t safe for yas. What if you _need_ us?”

 “Freddy’s got a point. I don’t like this, either.” Chica chimed in.

The night guard shifted his weight. His friends all had points. Mike rubbed his cheek, “Okay. I’ve got a plan.” He snuck looks at everyone, and wasn’t surprised Freddy still looked stubbornly doubtful. The bears arms were crossed, but it wasn’t like he’d bar the door and forbid Mike to leave. …Right?

“I’m gunna come clean with him. On everything.”

Well, that got a chorus of responses.

“Yer WHAT?!”

“Lad, ya drank the sea water, didn’t ya—”

“Mikey! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Oh man, Thumper’s gone off his rocker—”

“Hello?”

“Thank you, BB.” Mike said, “I _would love_ to explain my plan before you all,” He shot his friends a look, “Lose your nuts and bolts.”

“I’ll be honest about most of it, actually. Springtrap, for one thing. I won’t say he was haunted—I _will_ say you were all with me though and he was unstable and dangerous. And that your AI’s are far more complex than most modern technology. Most likely more than anything he’s ever encountered, anyway.”

“But it _ain’t_ ,” Freddy protested. “Well, it is, but the kids also—“ Mike’s raised hand silenced the bear.

“I don’t want to bring them into this if I don’t have to. They were just kids, they’re laid to rest. And they’re parents—no. No it’s better if we’re semi-straight forward.” Mike made a face. “Mostly.” He admitted.

“How do ya figure?” Bonnie snorted.

“First, I don’t _expect_ him to believe me about you guys. But it will clear our butts should anything get messy. NOT that I’m saying I want it to.” Mike kept a warning edge to his tone. “Second, he might not have it out for me as bad as we’re all assuming.”

Dubious looks were cast around. The gang never really had gotten over their general distaste around adults; their night guard was exempt, thankfully. To Mike, it just meant that adults needed to go the extra mile to prove they were alright. He didn’t see anything wrong with it—he had willingly done it, after all. These robots were honestly suffering from a small form of PTSD, in a way. A little healing might go a long way, though.

“Thirdly, the best way you convince people you're not lying to them is to tell them you are!” Mike smiled. “Perfect plan!”

“You said that the night you took on King and almost _died_.” Chica deadpanned, but Mike waved her merrily off.

“Semantics.”

“It’s not—“ Freddy groaned and covered his face with a paw, mimicking a human’s sigh of exasperation. “Son. Just be _careful_. We’ll all be in yer corner.”

“Good.” Mike smiled. “Then I’m sure everything will work out.” He had to believe that. Maybe if he said it enough, he would.

“Awright, bucko.” Bonnie opened the door for him, ears bending. “But if yer not back here in ten, I don’t think we’ll all be able to hold Faz from charging out in ‘kill mode.’ So. Keep that in mind.”

Mike snorted, but pointed them to all stay in their places—and Plushtrap on his arcade game—before heading out into the ever darkening night.

* * *

Danny would never have imagined that he might miss his little part timer at the pizzeria. If it hadn’t been for is desire to find some shred of his father’s, _some_ piece or memory, he might have never looked twice at the ad in the paper for the day guard. Yet here he was, miserably cooped up in a cramped room with a homicidal robot looming over him and wishing uselessly for the long halls and wide Dining Room with its join arcade. He missed the smells, the chatter, the warmth when he ducked and weaved around bodies. The way the floor shook when the bots were on the move. He even sort of missed the animatronics themselves, though maybe not Foxy, with those big teeth and that cruelly sharp hook. Mike trusted the animatronics and Danny trusted Mike, but that’s as far as the connection goes, Bonnie aside. Worst of all, Danny _misses_ Bonnie, especially now that he had made the connection to the robot possibly being a piece to his cloudy-at-best childhood memories. Bonnie—or, something that looked like him—had been in his dad’s office on the night Danny was with him! But…Bonnie had said he didn’t remember the late 80’s. That had to be a mistake. Well, he was a robot, wasn’t he? Maybe Mike knew of a way to get those memories back.

But it doesn’t matter right now, not where he’s sitting. Between a rock and a much harder place. A place with more teeth. And claws.

The boy was painfully aware; every inch of his body has hairs on end when it comes to the sensation of sitting next to the terrifying Nightmare Bonnie. Even sitting, Nightmare Bonnie was taller and bulkier than the Bonnie to which he had become accustomed.

The boy heard the long, drawling churring noise that—Danny _thinks_ —loosely forms a question. The noise seemed hard to make. Especially with all those thick, sharp teeth. Danny lets his head fall to the side of the wall, sighing a little as he opens his eyes and waits for them to adjust, looking to see what Nightmare Bon wanted now.

The glinting, blue-white orbs of his new… _friend_ …fade and brighten back at him. It took Danny a second to realize, but the monstrous rabbit was _mimicking_ his blink. Since it had no eye plates left on its rotted core, Nightmare Bonnie had to find another way to emulate him.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Danny whispered softly, afraid if he spoke too loud, Nightmare will come for him. Even IF the rabbit choose to defend him, it wouldn’t be enough. The Marionette wasn’t enough, and that was the scariest thing Danny knew of until Nightmare reared its ugly, shadowy head.

This seemed to satisfy the bunny, a question that was never asked but only prompted. Danny’s guess was right, though, and the rabbit looked slowly away.

The silence ended when Danny’s stomach made an audibly hungry noise.

Nightmare Bonnie turned his head to look at him, sensitive ears bending toward the noise, and the robot makes a long gurgling response. It seemed the Nightmare animatronics liked mimicking whatever they could, be it action, sound or otherwise.

“Yeah, m’kinda hungry. You know, nom nom?” He makes the charade gesture of eating a sandwich. It…seems to work. Unfortunately, it just makes the nightmare rabbit chomp his teeth, which is downright horrifying.

“Okay! Okay! Let’s not do that!” Danny wheezes, scrambling to stand. It takes the rabbit a couple false starts, but Danny gets the bright idea to use some of the sturdier packing boxes for the rabbit to use as a sort of bench. It works. Danny swallowed as Nightmare Bonnie stood to his intimidating height, but forced himself to not step back. He didn’t know what kept him, maybe he’s worried about hurting the robot’s feelings? Maybe it’s because, deep down, he knows it’s no use trying to get distance between them.

“Maybe there’s a kitchen…I can get some food.” Danny laid a hand over his stomach as it rumbled once more in noisy protest. The nightmare’s big had rolled down to stare at his stomach in what could only be described as vacant concern and interest. He wondered what time it was, but didn’t carry a watch, and his phone was still on the kitchen counter in the pizzeria.

Danny poked his head out into Plushtrap’s now abandoned hall, and decided it isn’t worth the risk. Starving to death seemed a much better—if slower—way to go than via mutilation by Nightmare. Or whatever else lurked in these halls.

Nightmare Bonnie, however, had other plans.

“H-hey, where are you going!?” Danny squeaked at the rabbit’s retreating back as it simply walked around him and lumbered for the corner of the hall that lead to the rest of the house.

“Get back here!” No use. The bunny was suddenly convincingly deaf, and Danny found himself unwilling to leave his only shred of protection.

Nightmare Bonnie was staring at the Grandfather clock, very intently when Danny caught up to him.

Was he staring at it? Or just reading it? Either way, the nightmare seemed satisfied by whatever the clock face told him, because he warbled over his shoulder at him—the noise sounded suspiciously like Danny’s name—and started hauling its heavy rotted form past the clock. A few steps straight and then it turned, facing a hall that was parallel to Plushtrap’s but much darker. There were no windows, but the rooms that it branched off must have had some forms of light, for the youngest Fitzgerald could see faint outlines of the arches.

 _Other_ rooms! If he ever found his voice, Danny had a ton of questions for Nightmare Bonnie. He padded after the robot, sticking close to his rotted blueberry colored back.

The rabbit sure seemed to know where it was going, because it headed without slowing past two closed doors before it hung a left, its ears scraping the archway despite the fact it ducked. Danny’s sneaker’s registered the end of thin shag carpeting, and the start of smooth linoleum before his eyes adjusted in the gloom. There Nightmare Bonnie stood—what little Danny could see of him—in a small slopped ceiling kitchen. It was four tiles away from being a galley, though it did turn an L shape to his right. The counters were, unsurprisingly, bare. But the cupboards were closed and it did have normal kitchen utilities. Like the rest of the house, all the light fixtures lacked any light bulb of any sort, so Danny didn’t even bother flicking the switch on the plate to his left.

Nightmare Bonnie chirped a ‘ _food’_ sound, pointing with a claw at the dusty, outdated refrigerator. Danny could hardly believe his eyes, but his stomach didn’t let him wonder for too long. He’s prying open the heavy yellow door before he realizes he even entered the dark, dimly lit kitchen fully.

“If I’m going to be stuck in this house, the least these people can do is gimme a meal.” Danny mumbled to himself and Nightmare Bonnie gave a servo click of agreement. The contents of the fridge yield little in the way of actual food. He noticed, grimly, it’s all rather boring food too. Packaged, shrink wrapped and sad. Carrots. Bread. Mustard, some deli-ham. Milk, and what appeared to be a life time supply of little applesauce containers, the kind you might get in a cafeteria or a hospital.

Regardless, Danny thanked the rabbit for knowing what he meant earlier—and having the decency to lead him to food and not to his death—and grabbed some bread and applesauce.

He had only just pulled open a drawer, pawing hopefully in the darkness for a spoon, when he spotted a little orb of movement out of the corner of his eye.

There was, though it was hard to spot, a second, wide entrance to the kitchen that might lead to some sort of living room or dining room. At least, that’s where it would have lead in his Aunt’s old house. But where this doorway lead wasn’t of much important to Danny any more, it was more what was IN the doorway.

Nightmare Chica’s one optic glowed in fiery, unholy rage at him, and growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You gotta feel for Freddy in this chapter. Last time the doors were between him and someone he was supposed to look out for, his programming forced him to stand by and watch an innocent child get murdered. That’s got do something to you, especially Fazbear.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my golden Joey, who passed away 4/17/2016. He lived a comfortable life that was the perfect length for a dog, but far too short for a friend. This isn’t how I wanted to get into the mindset of a grieving person, but I understand Mike horribly clear right now. But this story is not done, and like Mike we must push on.
> 
> Also, who’s excited about Sister Location? Loosely kicking around a short—think London Bridge short—story to work on in the game’s universe. We’ll see!


	12. Who Will Watch the Watchman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Nightmare gives nightmares to Arthur  
> *Nightmare Bonnie picks a side  
> *"Don't treat me like just another night guard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t resist the nod to Zootopia. It’s such a wonderful movie! The name connections is likely about as far as it will go, this is no crossover story. Just a mere coincidence, you see.

**ACT II**

**  
Chapter 12. Who Will Watch the Watchman?**

There are two types of darkness.

The first one is hard to explain out of the sheer necessity of it. It is something you really only recognize a bit better after you’ve been rather low at some point in your life. You must have been so low, so empty and lost, that you are now able to see the blackness as something _good_ —but it is very different than the other type.

It is the summer night sky behind fireworks. The crisp black velvet of an old sewing chair your grandmother owned, or the melted dark chocolate your mother pours into your birthday cake. Your father’s mahogany brown, crinkled eyes as he sits by your bed with a book on his hand for your nightly reading together. It is the color of the faded khaki pants of your big brother—before he turned 13 and cruel—your small hand griping the fabric as you walk the street to the gas station to get a popsicle. It is, most importantly, the sensation of being asleep in a pitch black room, with only a very small flashlight as something with black and white stripes comes down the hall at you, reaching limbs out until its Not-Fingers touch your wet face and banish your fears with the first gentle touch you can remember in what seems like eons—but has only been a week. Maybe five nights at most.

 It is the darkness that remolds before your very eyes, into the spindle black gift giver from a restaurant you feared more than hated. And it is this darkness, in particular, that lets you hug and cling and sob and try to make sense of a world crashing down around you.

For Arthur, that one type of darkness is the Marionette.

Nightmare was the other.

Looking back, Arthur can vaguely remember Nightmare hunting him before the Marionette came. The kid wondered for a while if that meant anything important, but if it did, he couldn’t put his finger on what. And until then, it wasn’t exactly useful information to help him in his current situation.

The small spectral form shivered as it bundled itself further into a corner of the nothingness that was now its new ‘suit.’ The puppet, at least, was human shaped, if long and spindly. That, and Arthur was so used to being sealed with the Marionette that any new vessel would honestly have felt exposed but claustrophobic, and too warm while being dead cold at the same time. Being trapped in Nightmare was a literal nightmare in itself, and Arthur hadn’t rested a wink since Nightmare had stolen him away from his friends. Ghostly essence with terrible, awful powers or not, he had died a child. His body and soul assumed he needed rest as much as any either year old, so no rest for Arthur would only increase the stress.

The child swallowed a whimper, fearful to make even the softest of sounds. Too much of a fuss and Nightmare would scream and threaten him again, sending his loosely tied down emotions fluttering to the wind like cobweb tails. And _that_ would make the ghost boy’s impressive powers fluctuating—which would only anger the shadowy black bear further.

Nightmare was using Arthur’s powers right now, for something. God knew what, but he was only a child.

Arthur did know this; those Nightmares were not easy to control. You had to be the toughest, the meanest, and the harshest to outshine their little cluster of terror. If he remembered correctly, the Nightmare visage of Foxy was often bottom rung, relegated into the closet in the bedroom. He wasn’t allowed to roam, because the Nightmare Bonnie stalked the left hall that shared Plushtrap’s hall. Once the big monstrous fox got into his closet, Arthur knew it was stuck there stubbornly until the night ended—sometimes he didn’t quite blame the monster, because Nightmare Foxy was probably only hiding in the closet to keep away from the others. Nightmare Freddy and his little band of Fredlets kept to the shadows even more than the others, often lurking under the prime spot of under the bed. It was the closest spot to Arthur, and the child had more than once nearly become victim to Nightmare Freddy. And Nightmare Chica’s territory was the right hall, and between the three of them, the little kid’s life was a running hell.

And everyone wanted to get into the bedroom, wanted to get at him.

The Puppet used to tell him, ‘ _That if he was afraid of the darkness, he was more afraid of what was lurking it,_ ’ and Arthur had always agreed about that.  It wasn’t until a few years later, a bit before Gold got his new Suit in the form of Mike Schmidt, that it dawned on the tearful child what exactly his protector and friend meant.

‘THERE IS AN INTRUDER HERE!’ The voice thundered all around him, everywhere and yet nowhere it once. Arthur jumped, but it ended in a low whine. ‘FEEL IT, DON’T YOU? WELL? ANSWER ME!’

Arthur shuddered, but nodded. Yes, he did. He couldn’t outright tell who it was but he _did_ know someone was on in the mindscape with him. A human soul that didn’t belong here. For a fleeting moment, he hoped it was Mike, who would have Fredbear with him. Fredbear would save him!

‘I KNOW WHO IT IS. I _KNOW_ WHO IT IS, AND HE’S COMING TO GET YOU.’

Startled and a little frightened, Arthur sent a confused, timid pulse back. ‘ _Coming to get me…?’_ He thought miserably. Nightmare’s tone was downright gleeful, so it was obviously not Mike or Fredbear, who only drew out another level of the shadowy monster’s seemingly bottom rage.

‘YOU REMEMBER HIM, DON’T YOU? HE’S THE REASON YOU’RE LIKE THIS. STUCK HERE IN YOUR OWN PERSONAL HELL, BOY. HE’S COME TO SCARE YOU AGAIN; I BET HE’LL GET A LAUGH OUT OF IT, TORMENTING YOU LIKE HE DID BEFORE.’

Arthur’s fear coursed to a white, lightning hot stroke of energy. His fear tumbled together with another emotion altogether, but was entirely the most unstable of the lot. Anger. Outrage!

Sheer, heavy, consuming _Heartache_.

Why was his big brother back now!? No, no it wasn’t fair! Hadn’t his big brother tormented him _enough_? _Killing him_ wasn’t good enough?

‘I don’t want him here!’ Arthur pleaded without thinking, hardly aware he was begging with Nightmare, who probably didn’t even know the definition of mercy, let alone the concept.

‘Make him leave!’ Arthur wailed, energy flying off the charts and coursing through Nightmare in pulsing, toxic waves. ‘ _MAKE HIM LEAVE!!’_

Suddenly, Arthur had trouble thinking outside of basic, singular thoughts. And whatever Nightmare said the ghost child seemed to agree to, as if hypnotized by the monster’s words. In his desperation to be rid of this big brother, the crying child had given Nightmare more than enough spectral energy—the same energy that had make Mike the night guard, that had sealed those kid’s souls into the robots, it was one in the same—and now Nightmare had it for his own nefarious purpose.

It _wasn’t_ the runt’s older brother in the world, either, no. He had been taken care of long ago.

It was, of course, someone else altogether.

But if Arthur knew that, Nightmare would have a much harder time siccing his little band of misfits on the intruder. This was a good time for Nightmare Chica to redeem herself, and to cause some more grief when the kid had to watch his beloved little bunny turn on him and rip him to shreds at Arthur’s—or rather, at Nightmare’s—bidding.

Besides, they _needed_ a damn good dress rehearsal before Nightmare let them loose.

* * *

Danny stood frozen in his spot. His stomach was still trying to decide if it wanted to plummet to his shoes or rise to the occasion to take up residence in this throat, and the subsequent game of yo-yo in his middle was making him lightheaded.

Nightmare Chica clearly remembered him, if the low utter of a _growl_ she gave him was anything to go by. Danny blanched, but stayed still against the wall. He had no weapons, nowhere to run, and few places to hide. If she wanted to, he would be dead in the time it took for her to shove Nightmare Bonnie aside and bring down her claws or close her beak on him.

 He tried not to think about _that_ in too much detail. Danny and Nightmare Chica turned to look as one at the rabbit, who stood mostly in-between them, with his shoulder blocking the human. If the rabbit chose to move, if he so much as even hesitated, Nightmare Chica would most likely lung and Danny would be mince meat.

Now Danny’s vision was blocked by a tattered blueberry colored shoulder just as Nightmare Chica lunged for him. The fridge door came swinging open by the force of the rabbit’s arm, and fully crashed into Nightmare Chica. Still, Danny saw the terrific force with which the quick-thinking rabbit delivered with his action, and he choked on air. He also swallowed a laugh, because now Chica was covered in applesauce and even her toothed cupcake looked furious at this development.

Danny was used to the normal, kid-friendly Bonnie. He was most _definitely_ not used to the rabbit being able to make sure horrific bellows. But this Nightmare Bonnie roared at Nightmare Chica without so much as a how-do, flexing pointed fingers warningly and stomping forward. The monster chicken returned the vocals with a slither hiss of her own, but seemed to think differently about outright challenging the bunny to get to the human. Applesauce dripped down her chest and splattered on the floor, but better that than Danny’s blood. She’d already suffered twice now because of going after her target. There were easier games to play, and she seemed to remember what happened the last time she chased this particular boy. The drive to Kill wasn’t so strong she couldn’t ignore it for now, and find something else to take her anger out on.

Her tone suddenly switched. A series of complicated clicks and rattles and rolls of metal. Her gaze was on Nightmare Bonnie. His big ears bent toward her as she gestured to him and jerked her head toward the door, but he shook his head and backed up more, keeping himself between the two. This time, the surprise was evident by Chica’s pause and blank stare in the blue bunny’s direction. Danny didn’t speak killer robot, but if he had to guess it sounded like Chica was questioning him. Asking him to come with her, maybe. But the nightmare rabbit was refusing, and his stance hadn’t moved an inch. He was denying her, promising to get in her way if she choose to go after Danny a third time.

Well, it was enough. Especially when Bonnie screeched again and made a few bites in her direction, raking the air between them with that shovel claw hand.

Chica warbled irritably, clicked her beak but finally backed off.

Danny could have been seeing things—it was so very dark still—but he thought he saw something akin to _hurt_ in the chicken’s eyes as she glanced over her shoulder at them. But then she was gone, having vanished ever deeper into the eerie house.

Danny eventually noticed red eyes were on him. His appetite was long gone, but Nightmare Bon was holding up a new applesauce container at him, long steel tipped claws holding it amusingly gingerly.

“…thanks.” He breathed up gratefully at the bunny, still gripping the counter with shaking arms. And he didn’t just mean the new applesauce cup.

Nightmare Bonnie actually churred, the noise sounding rather pleasant.

* * *

The officer sucked down the last few ends of a cigarette as Mike approached him. The night guard winced as the smoke fluttered toward the sky when the man behind the black ray bans exhaled. Mike knew when someone was appraising him, and he knew when they didn’t like what they saw. He saw the same expression every morning in the mirror. Too short, too skinny, too messy hair.

The one good thing going for Mike was that there was no chance he’d turn into Golden, because nothing short of the man pulling his gun would rouse the sleeping being that took up residence in Mike’s mind.

“Uh—“ He started.

“Detective Wilde of the OPD. Mr. Schmidt, correct? Night guard, manager…said on my file you did just about everything in the restaurant save for entertain the kids and cook.”

“Y-yeah well, I try to leave that to my frien—to the animatronics.” He saw the man’s expression and tacked on quickly, “And the cooks. Uh, call me Mike, please.”

“Jack of all trades, are we?” For some reason, Mike felt like this guy was getting at something. He kept his brow from knitting and feigned innocence instead.

“Uhm, I just, try to keep the place up and running.”

“Right.” The Detective pushed off his car and, hands in pockets, made a lazy show of walking toward the restaurant.

“You want to go inside?” Mike half-yelped before he could help himself. “I-I mean of course. R-right this way.”

“Looks like it’s gunna rain. I figure you and I can have our little talk in there. Problem with that, Schmidt?” His tone was even keeled—enough that Mike didn’t initially take it as he was mad. Just short with words. That was fine in all honesty. Freddy was the same. Mike swallowed dryly but nodded. Keep it cool, keep it cool.

Most of that plan, however, went out the window as he headed into Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

Mike paused, because the first thing he noticed upon entering the building was everyone was back on stage. Chica was staring at the far wall, Bonnie had his guitar and Freddy’s microphone was raised jovially to the invisible crowd of kids. Foxy of course, was nowhere to be seen, but Mike could picture his swashbuckling pose, hidden behind the dusty curtains of Pirate Cove.

All in all, the bots on stage looked like harmless, robotic performers who were shut down and never left their spots except during open hours.

Mike didn’t buy it for a second. They were up to something.

“So that’s them, then?”

“Uh—“ Mike jerked, realizing Wilde was looking where he was. “Yeah—Bonnie, Freddy and Chica. We’re uh, closed right now, of course. So they’re, they’re turned off.” He spoke a little louder, a little more determination in his voice.

“So they’re _aren’t_ going to perform. Or _sing_. Or MOVE. Or ANYthing.”

“…right.” of course, for Mike to make his point to his suddenly angelic friends, this meant he looked a bit weird to Detective Wilde, who arched a brow and wandered further into the pizzeria.

Horrifyingly, the detective walked right toward the stage. Mike followed, his gut so low it was a wonder it hadn’t fallen out his sneakers.

Wilde walked in front of the stage, stopping by Bonnie’s right paw. Mike did his level best to not notice the fact Freddy’s glass eyes were tracking the detective, rolling smoothly along the bottom of his eyelids, eyebrows lowering. That wasn’t good. He recognized that predator gaze.

“This is it, huh? Hasn’t changed much.”

“O-oh, did you come here as a kid?” Small talk. Remind the listening bots that this man was a child once, too. And to go all horror movie on him would be a Very Bad Idea.

“I was here for a few of the night guards we had to clean up off the floors in the backroom. Never could make the connection between _those_ murders and the ones of the kids.” Wilde rapped his knuckles against Bonnie’s leg. “And there was the one before that, but I was a kid when that was open.”

“Oh?” But the officer was silent again. He must have meant the one the toys were the stars of, it didn’t strike Mike to recall Fredbear’s diner.

Mike internally screamed for Freddy to stop the unblinking stare he was doing, or the way his mouth was hanging open a little. From his angle, the handprint stain was visible and Freddy’s acrylic white teeth caught the stage high beams.

Mike motioned for the man to follow, then thought better of it and let him pass.

“Just down that hall, last door on the left. Kitchen’s the first door on the right, if you want to look at it. I’ve got to turn off the stage lights, _berightthere_!” Mike promised. Wilde threw a look over his shoulder but, thankfully, excited the dining hall and turned left.

Mike turned on his heel and leveled a finger at the once more forward facing bear.

“Don’t make me lock your servos up, Fazbear! I know what you’re playing and now is NOT the time!” He hissed as he backed up toward the hall door. “Bonnie, Chica, you keep him there and if anyone takes a paw of your stands you all lose movie night for a _week_!”

No answer. The robots stood silent and still as the dead. The grim comparison made the night guard shudder and he turned and exited the Dining Hall. Mike groaned, still not buying it, but turned and scampered for his office. He nearly slipped on a mop someone left lying against a wall when he saw Detective Wilde standing before Pirate’s Cove. The curtain was fully parted, which it almost never was these days, and the man was holding his chin as he stared up at the frozen Captain Foxy. Mike couldn’t be sure, but if he had to guess Foxy must have forgot to close it before Wilde showed up. If the man had wrenched the curtains apart himself, he’d already be under attack by the sensitive, protective pirate.

“Uh—that’s Foxy—“ Which seemed foolish, since he had a plaque on the wall and Wilde hadn’t even notice him approach from behind. He was so focused on the pirate fox looming over them.

“Hm? Yeah, I know.” The Detective’s tone was steady but rather quiet, as if they were in church suddenly. “He was always my favorite as a kid. Had a mask of him and everything.”

Mike blinked, standing awkwardly by the taller man. “Oh, yeah. I forgot they’d made those…we uh, don’t have them anymore.”

“Mhm.” The questioning man had suddenly gone silent, and it caught Mike off guard for a bit. When the detective moved, he cleared his throat.

“Your office, then?”

“Yeah, right this way.” Mike glanced over his shoulder, grimacing when he saw that wide open jaw turning toward their backs. Thankfully, he didn’t hear the twang of metal which gave the old pirate away. Mike felt relief stir in his stomach. So far, so good.

“All I want is to hear your side of the story. So far, any investigation can’t really be called that. Think of it like, just poking around. Seeing what sticks.” Wilde explained.

“So I don’t have to go down to the station for this?”

“People talk better when they’re in a more comfortable place. If I think there’s need for you to come in for questioning, we’ll cross that bridge if we come for it.” The man spotted the small cot taking up the back wall of his cramped office. “Mind if I…?’ He gestured to the bed, and Mike nodded.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Mike hesitated, because that conversation had alluded to one thing that was stuck in the strainer of his mind. This man was smart, at the very least, he knew people. Being a detective, Mike supposed, made ‘knowing people’ part of the job requirement. Still, he had a feeling that Mike’s comfort wasn’t the only reason they were in the pizzeria having this little talk. Was Wilde testing the waters? Did he want to see if the robots would come to life and attack them, like those other night guards?

But that hadn’t been their fault. That had been King, the previous manager. Of course, taking King out of the equation didn’t mean the robots weren’t still fully capable of those dangerous habits they once acted out. They could be reprogrammed, they could decide to do it of their own free will—heck, Mike himself could sic the animatronincs on another adult and they’d probably listen just because they trusted him. A trust, of course, he could never break. The very thought made him shiver. He wished, not for the first time that day, Mari was still here.

Mike swallowed and took a seat in his rolly chair, pulling over the tablet to fiddle with. If Wilde noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

“—art at the beginning.”

“What?” Mike jumped, realizing he’d tuned the detective out by his own thoughts chasing themselves round in his head.

“…I said ‘let’s start at the beginning.” Wilde inclined his head, “Just your part in the horror attraction. I’ve got some basic info I read before I came here, and…”

Mike did a double-take when he saw what was on the Prize Room camera. A lone golden bunny with big teeth sat slumped against a Chica plush that sat on the lowest wall. At least one of the robots was being smart, Mike supposed.

“So let me get this straight. You…went to the horror attraction? Alone. Didn’t tell anyone here you were going, asked for the robot back. Guy says no, you stuck around for a bit and then left?”

“Yes, well I…uh…” Upon a closer look at the dining room via his tablet, Mike’s stomach dropped. He said he’d come clean.

“I wasn’t…alone…” He trailed off by accident, not realizing he’d done it.

There was a gaping space between Bonnie and Chica.

“…Schmidt?”

“Yes! Uh—I wasn’t alone, I took the animatronics with me, actually.” He tried to be suave as he flicked through screens. Shit, shit shitshit.

Mike had _no_ idea where Freddy had gone—he isn’t anywhere to be seen, and he’s not even sure when the bear left—but Freddy can move quietly for such a big animatronic. Coupled with the fact Mike had turned off half the pizzeria to save money, meant Freddy could be anywhere including breathing down their necks.

Well, Officer Wilde’s neck. Freddy wouldn’t hurt Mike.

He’s not even sure he _would_ hurt the officer—scare and terrify yes. He wasn’t just going for a stroll. They had heard Mike’s warning. No. Freddy was moving deliberately closer to them. Freddy knew he was going against the night guard’s wishes by doing this.

Mike glanced at the gun holster on the officer’s hip, and swallowed. What were the odds that old bear’s protective streak _wasn’t_ fueling his sudden roaming in the dark?

Low, low odds. Lower than the odds of winning the final level of Bonnie’s Bash Jam game.

“You took th—the robots? Why on earth would you do that?”

“Erh—“ Mike summoned his inner Phone Guy, and it worked. “The animatronics are coded to recognize each other, you see. You’ve heard of their facial recognition? Right. If some random guy showed up like me, Spring might have resisted. And uh. You saw those guys…and me. I can’t really take a hit.”

Gold made an amused noise in the back of his mind at his last bold-faced lie, which Mike dutifully tired to ignore.

“Riight…” The detective glanced around the dingy security office. “So you, and the bots, correct? Went to Fazbear’s Fright to recover this…Spring.”

“Springtrap, sir.”

“Springtrap.” The man echoed, sounding doubtful. Mike nodded, hoping he was imaging the soft muffled footfalls of something very big, and very heavy coming down the hall. “But the man said no. And that was it? You just…took your _friends_ and left?”

Mike wasn’t sure he liked the way friends sounded, but he couldn’t afford to be a snot right now.

“I did! I, hey, do you feel that draft?” Before Wilde could agree, disagree or even ask what he was on about, Mike was up out of his chair. “Lemme just, close this door!” The right hall’s metal sheet of a door slammed down.

“There. Uh, sorry. Yes, yes.” He sat back down, trying to inconspicuously peak at the security camera. “We left, we did stay for several hours, though.”

Wilde eyed him a moment longer, during which Mike managed a weak smile. His nervousness wasn’t for lying; it was because he swore he heard Toreador March now coming from the left side of the hall.

“Well, if that’s all then.” Wilde trailed off, and Mike knew what he was doing. He was giving Mike one more chance at ‘his’ side of the story. But Mike didn’t know how much he had left, really. He just knew that if Freddy Fazbear himself showed up and took in the scene of a nervous night guard with a strange adult staring him down, things were going to get messy quick.

“If you have any other questions, I can answer them.” He went for helpful and innocent. It…seemed to work.

“No, no. I best be getting back to the station. My partner goes up one side and down the others if I miss our meetings with the chief. Real stickler for the rules, Jude is.” Wilde stood up, dusted his pants off and stepped toward the only open doorway.

“Oh, no, it’s quicker to the dining hall if you leave here,” Mike had the right wing open and Wilde out it so fast he nearly made his own head spin. “I hope I was of some help at least—“

“Well, soon we’ll have all the answers. The camera footage is being recovered slow as can be, but we ought to have it completed in a few days.”

“Erh, that’s good then.”

Mike nodded, wishing he could share in the man’s joy to make it more convincing. The security camera would reveal all. Everything that is, except what happened in the basement. He’s at least glad he talked about the bots being with him, to prove he wasn’t lying.

They pushed through the swinging doors into the Dining Hall, and Mike’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the whole gang on the stage. He breathed a little sigh of relief and this time, his grin was a bit more genuine.

“Listen, Offi—Detective Wilde, here’s the pizzera’s line.”

“No cell?”

“Well, yeah, but we don’t get good reception in here.”

The man’s brow furrowed, “You still have that thing? I thought they trashed that one when it bit a guard during a party.”

Now it was Mike’s turn to look confused. “What thing? What are you— _who_ are you talking about?”

“Guess you don’t have it, then. The Mangle, it was one of newer models—way newer than those things. Think it was like, a take a-part attraction for little kids? Yeah.” The man shrugged and explained, “For some reason, it emitted this awful static noise sometimes. Blocked or interrupted just about anything that wasn’t a landline from what I was told.”

“Erh, oh, no. We don’t have…The Mangle.” What a horrible name! Mike wondered if the bite had anything to do with being upset at having such a cruel title. “The walls are just, just old. Full of lead, I guess.” Mike held the door for the man, “Or something.”

“Right. Well. I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Schmidt.”

Mike waited until the bobbing lights of the patrol car had turned toward the dark road that would take him back into town before he turned to the stage. He wasn’t surprised to see Bonnie off it already and Chica just now stepping down. Freddy was fiddling with his microphone and its stand, or something. The nonchalant expression the bear tossed his way made something akin to anger bubble under Mike’s skin.

“What the hell was that about?”

“Son, I’ll remind ya about the swea—“

 _“Knock it off_ , Fredbear.” Everyone turned to Mike now, even Freddy paused in shock. “I told you all to stay put! What if he wanted to see the rest of the pizzeria!? What if he went into the kitchen and you were there? How do I explain that, huh, on top of everything else I’m getting blamed for!”

“Freddy wasn’t trying to make trouble, sweetie,” That was Chica, ever the mediator. Freddy still seemed too surprised at Mike’s outburst to answer back just yet anyway. “He was just worried for you; we don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Well he has a damn funny way of showing it!” Mike snapped at her, and immediately felt bad. He grumbled and pushed a chair aside as he headed for the door that would take him to the hall.

“I sounded like a lunatic, like I had something to hide while I was talking to that guy. And I did!” Mike pointed an accusatory finger at the bear. “You! What were you even going to do, anyway? Scare him? Freak him out? _Take him to Parts and Services for ‘breaking the rules?’”_ At that statement, the bear turned shamefully away from the night guard, but Mike just looked bothered still. The silence, in his opinion, was damming enough. Freddy wasn’t saying no.

“Hey, Mike take it easy, Fred doesn’t do that anymore—“ But Bonnie stopped at the irate look from their friend. Rarely did Mike ever get mad, and when he did, it certainly hadn’t been aimed at them in a long, long time.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Son, you had to know I wouldn’t have—I know yer upset but I can’t apologize fer doing what I think is best for ya.” Freddy tried to speak up, but the words felt…robotic.

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Mike frowned. “But now I know you won’t mean it. What bothers me the most isn’t what you were going to do. It was what you did.”

The trio looks of confusion from them all clued Mike in to how they all thought. That they didn’t understand how hurt and betrayed he felt.

“I feel bad enough right now. I already feel like I can’t be a good leader, and ever since Mari—“ Mike stopped himself before his voice cracked. He swallowed hard, and knew he hadn’t gotten away with hiding what this was all about. He suddenly wished Plushtrap was here, but the little golden bunny was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had gone back to Arthur’s world.

“I trusted you to trust _me_ , Freddy. And you didn’t.” Mike gave a flustered noise and turned to go to the office, his posture and tone making it clear he didn’t want to be followed.

“Don’t make me feel like just another night guard.” _The ones you didn’t like. The ones you killed._

“Son—“

But Mike was gone, and the sound of sliding metal that eventually rang throughout the dark halls seemed louder than they ever had before.

Their night guard had locked them out, in more ways than one.

* * *

Foxy had always been one to live on the edge, so to speak. Seeing how he enjoyed a good adventure and danger didn’t scare him, the pirate fox had always been a bit of a risk taker, to say the least.

How else could you explain bolting head first toward the office door, raising Hell and nearly the dead from the sheer noise alone?

Yes, Foxy liked a good rabble rousing time.

However like all esteemed Captains of the Sea, there was a time and place for that. Just as there was a time and place for taking a moment to enjoy the look of the waves.

Having a night guard for a best friend was fine, but having Michael Schmidt for a best friend was an altogether different adventure. One even the Captain himself wished sometimes they could forgo—if only to make sure Mike hadn’t run off and gotten himself blown up.

It was only a few short hours after that nosy Detective left that Foxy noticed how quiet the pizzeria had gotten. He’d poked his muzzle into the dismal hall and glanced at the camera on reflex. Nothing. Surprised and confused, and wondering what everyone was up to, Foxy had wandered from his Cove to the Dining Hall. He found Bonnie absently fiddling with his guitar. Chica was in the kitchen, the rabbit said.

“And Faz’?” Foxy asked curiously, wondering what the gloom and doom was about. Mike hadn’t called a staff meeting, so as far as Foxy knew the lawman’s arrival had gone alright.

“Uh, Freddy’s in Parts and Services. Don’t, don’t go in there, Foxy.” Rarely did they ever use each other’s names. Foxy stared at the bunny, but nodded. “He’s having a hard time.”

“Aye, we all are.” The captain nodded, for once having a serious talk with the rabbit. “I’ll just be checkin’ in on the lad, then.”

Bonnie didn’t say anything, so he left.

Strange. Stranger still, was that the doors were down! A peek through the window didn’t let him see the young man, but Foxy thought he saw a bent up knee and the chair’s wheels. He could see the present box, but didn’t look to long at it, it gave him the willies.

Maybe he was taking a nap again?

“Lad? Why’re tha doors down matey?” Foxy rapped a few times with his hook. “Let ole Foxy in, Mike. This reminds me too much a’the old days.” He tried again, turning up the volume of his voice.

That seemed to be the key, because no sooner had Foxy admitted that then the door on his side slide up. Foxy entered, politely ignoring how red the lad’s eyes were.

“Hey Foxy…” Mike started to greet him, but his eyes stayed too long on the hook and trailed up to meet his own questioning gaze. The fox’s ears lifted with little metal creaks in askance.

“Hey. Foxy. Maybe you can help me with something.”

His big red ears sank a little, because he knew that look on the lad’s face.

“Aye, lad.”

Oh, this could _not_ be good.

* * *

Standing besides the scrawny man, the fox turned to look down the hall toward Parts and Services. But there was still no sign of the lead bear animatronic.

“Sure this be a good idea, matey?” Foxy spun his hook nervously, holding the arm up as it slid a smooth half circle before absently changing directions.

“You heard Bonnie—Danny hasn’t shown up for work.” Mike frowned and tugged on the closed door to the Prize Room. “Thankfully his parents haven’t called yet, either. But that’s just a matter of time. We need to find him before that happens. Before Detective Wilde comes back.”

“Aye. And if he ain’t here?”

“Then he might be somewhere _else_. Somewhere he shouldn’t be.” Mike finally dug out the key ring and unlocked the Prize Room. “Like on the Other side of the door. Understand, Captain?” He asked grimly as he turned the knob.

Foxy only nodded. He had a feeling though, that Danny’s disappearance was just another reason for Mike to enter the forbidden world of the Child’s mind. Mike’s normally open, relaxed features were taut and tense. He was mad, about the puppet, about Danny or about something else entirely, Foxy couldn’t be sure. Try as he might, he couldn’t put his hook on what exactly was bothering their night guard. Perhaps it was a combination of everything.

Foxy was the perfect example, he knew that some things buckled under pressure. That sometimes, you just had to bite back.

The robot shifted his weight uneasily, but followed the young man obediently back to his office. If he couldn’t stop Mike from doing something stupid, he could at least be there when and if the lad snapped. He hadn’t been there for Scott, but he _would_ be there for Mike.

“I think I’m all ready to go. How about you Foxy?”

“Aye lad, I be ready when you are. Lead on, mate.” Foxy gestured with his hook, and Mike managed a small smile.

“Alright, let’s hope this works.” And then Mike was gently extracting Plushtrap from his shoulder and setting him before the doorway of the Prize Room.

Mike turned and smiled weakly down at the Nightmare BalloonBoy watching him.

“Uh, ready when you are, BB.” Mike swallowed, “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“ _Hello_.” The animatronic had taken a bit more convincing than last time. Mike suspected it had something to do with the loss of the puppet. Which made sense, considering BB opening the door for Mike and the others a few days ago had indirectly painted a target on the puppet’s back.

BB had only altered forms when Mike told him this time he was going alone with Foxy. The only one better would have been Freddy, but, well. BB had been under the table when Mike had seen the Detective out.

Once more, there was little fanfare to let them know they’d exited their reality and entered the strange, foreboding new one. It was another clue in Mike’s mind, because if Danny was distracted he might not have noticed if he’d walked through a doorway. And Plushtrap had to have gotten here somehow…

This time, their little portal had led them back into the odd bedroom where they had first encountered Nightmare. A few looks and a negative from Gold informed Mike the coast was clear. He motioned Foxy to follow him, and a second later the sizzle of the portal door sounded as it sealed them in. When Mike spoke next, it was at a low whisper.

“Just be careful. We’ll get Danny, and get out.” That was the first part of his plan anyway. The second was to stay behind and look for Arthur—or better yet that stupid Nightmare—but Mike didn’t say that just yet. Better Foxy didn’t know.

“M’gunna check the hall, lad. Whistle if ya need ole’Foxy.” The robotic fox reminded grimly as he slipped into the hall. The stubby carpeting was keeping his normally loud metal footsteps pretty muffled.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, Captain.” The night guard hummed as he got down on hands and knees and looked under the bed.

Two little eyes stared out at him. Familiar knobby teeth and flopped ears wiggled as Plushtrap poked his head out from under the bed.

“Trap!” Mike hissed, pulling the bunny the rest of the way out. “Did you follow us in? Ugh, I guess that’s for the best. You know this place as good as the Nightmares, don’t you?” He concluded with a question, satisfied when the bunny nodded quickly.

“Fine. But _no_ jumping out at me like that.” Mike scolded gently as he stood and turned around. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The closet door shifted softly, making Mike blink and cock his head.

“…Foxy?” No answer. But Mike thought for sure he had seen a flash of red. He exhaled and walked over to the closet, a hand reaching out to pull the shutter style door back.

“I don’t there’d be anything in the closet, Captain. What, does it remind you of your cov—“

Teeth. Snout. Tongue.

“Gyaah!!”

A low snarl sounded from the closet, and Plushtrap ducked back under the bed where it was safe.

“Foxy? No— _Foxy_!!” Mike’s confused mumble turned to terror as the Nightmare visage of his dear friend towered from the closet and headed for him.

There was a time when Mike thought the original Foxy he knew was horrifying—with the hanging jaw that gave him a perpetual gaping smile, just like a crocodile. And his torn, ragged suit and that brass, cruel curve of the robot’s hook used to haunt the young man’s waking and sleeping moments, or the pounding sound of the robot running down the hall at a dead sprint, coming for him.

But this was not the Foxy he knew. This was worse.

Nightmare Foxy was all that and more, basically a great, rotted mechanical missile. Mike scrambled out of the path of the rampaging Nightmare, yelping as he crashed clumsily into the dresser. His ankle caught on a little phone toy, the cord tangling further as he tried to shake himself free on the ground. No luck.

Mike looked up in time to see Nightmare Foxy had stormed ever closer, and rallied with a screech that shook the spiders from the ceiling. Yellow flashed in his peripheral but it belonged to the little Plushtrap, who ran on little legs clutching a broken flashlight in both his grubby paws. He tripped halfway and it went rolling well out of Mike’s grasp, though he tried vainly to reach for it. Light stopped the original; chances were it might stop this one.

If he could just…reach the flashlight—

“Wait— _stop_!” But any attempt at making nice had vanished like water evaporating on a hot stove. Mike felt Gold’s presence tingle under his skin, but the ghostly other half was still tired from the last Suit-Switch. Mike knew this time; it was _him_ facing a Nightmare.

And then Nightmare Foxy was launching head first, and his jaw was most certainly not hanging—which meant it was fully intending to bite.

Thinking fast, Mike used the cord of the plastic phone to bring it to his hands, and shoved it into the gaping maw filled with needle sharp, metal teeth as it came down on him. He only just had freed himself from the stretchy, curly cord when Nightmare Foxy stopped trying to wrench the obstruction out with one clawed hand and instead crunched down. Plushtrap’s ears buckled and Mike pulled the bunny closer, as if to shield him with his measly fleshy arms alone. Bits of plastic went flying as the murderous Not-Foxy turned fever bright orange optics down at him, growling at him for that little trick. Mike smiled sheepishly, but quickly crab walked back as Nightmare Foxy advanced. Mike saw an opening and took it, pushing up and trying to make it past the fox and to the hallway.

“Plushtrap— _go_!!” Mike ordered, trying to push Plustrap to safety and then go for the flashlight in the middle of the room.

Nightmare Foxy was quicker.

Thankfully Mike had chosen the side that was merely a robotic hand, because instead of getting skewered, he was merely cloth-lined and thrown roughly right back into the half open accordion doors. Wood creaked in protest as Mike collided heavily head and shoulder first. The human went down, crumpling like a tin can and rolling a fraction before he laid still, half on his side and half on his stomach.

The little bunny looked startled to see Mike down and not getting back up, and quickly abandoned the freedom of the hall to scurry back to Mike, snatching the flashlight up again. Nightmare Foxy ignored the tiny bunny altogether, not caring when it stopped by Mike’s head and tried pushing on the night guard’s shoulder uselessly. Then he tried putting the light in the guard’s lamp hand, hoping maybe Mike could turn it on and give them some much needed, precious light. It didn’t work, Mike was out like the flashlight and Nightmare Foxy advanced, hook raising and just aching to swing down and slice the poor guy to ribbons. Plushtrap covered his optics with his ears childishly and looked away, not wishing to see this happen to the only one who willingly played his Game with him.

There was the sound of muffled clanking, something heavy but fast came sprinting from seemingly nowhere, and Nightmare Foxy was slammed into his side and sent crashing into the wall from the force of a great hulking red blur.

Foxy, the _original_ one, shrieked angrily at his downed counterpart to stay down, and stooped to check on Mike. The pirate fox shared a look with Plushtrap when Foxy jostled Mike’s shoulder and found him unmoving, completely at the Nightmare’s mercy. It didn’t take much for Foxy to piece together what had happened, and his single gold glass optic click-clicked toward the Nightmare fox.

 “Ohhh, swabbie.” The mostly intact fox straightened from his crouch over the prone form of his night guard. He was addressing the Nightmare animatronic, the one who dared steal his very likeness, and from his speaker was a growl that would have made Freddy proud.

“Imma’fraid ya just picked yer own plank ta’walk. Hurting my lad here, ya’see.”

Foxy held out his arm and brandished his too sharp hook, which caught the light of his amber eyes before they switched to all black with tiny white pinpricks. So Nightmare him opened his working jaw and a hiss of exhaust escaped, tongue moving in a loose boneless lash as Nightmare Foxy took a step back. It seemed…suddenly hesitant.

Mike, of course, was one thing. The human was smaller, the obvious target for a Nightmare to go after. The weakest were never the ones protected, it had learned. If they were, he himself wouldn’t have to face this strange new Animatronic alone. He had no one to come to his aid like that scrawny human had, the very concept was out of the Nightmare’s realm of possibility. It didn’t understand why Foxy—who looked so much like itself—was siding with the stranger.

Nightmare Foxy tried hissing again, but the real Foxy was already advancing in a slow stalking manner that reminded the Nightmare too much of the black demon bear that ruled them all.

Against better judgment, the Nightmare fox shifted its weight and lunged, deciding to appear tougher than it actually felt (and was.)

Foxy didn’t buy it.

His hook came into the blasted spook’s exposed muzzle and Foxy dragged the Not Him around in a full, stumbling arc, sending him flying with his own exertion against one of the doors.

_“I’ll send ya ta Davy Jones’ locker meself fer hurtin’ ‘im!”_


	13. For He Crept Under the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Something Worse  
> *"Well, we're alive. Maybe we can do something with that."  
> *The Second Layer of Limbo  
> *Mike Confronts Nightmare

**Act II  
Chapter 13. For He Crept Under the Frying Pan**

There is always something worse waiting around the corner.

Most people assume that the most terrible thing they’ve seen can’t be topped. That it can never get any worse, any darker. Any more hopeless. Even if there was something worse, the mind will break from it, and that will be the end of the story. But it is time to face the truth. There _is_ worse, your mind does _not_ snap, and somehow you are forced to carry on. And the story never truly ends for most things.

Because there is nothing else to do.

Freddy Fazbear stood before a sheepish and still vaguely nightmareish BalloonBoy, who played with his claws absently and wouldn’t raise his submissive gaze from the floor.

“An’yah let’im go through that damned door _a second time_?” The bear forced his volume to maintain a decent decibel. It would be all too easy to lose his temper and take it out on the little balloon bot who had only been following orders. Besides, that would be a waste. BB was a good little toy bot. And Freddy was saving his true ire for Michael, and his real anger for anything that got in his way on his path to said night guard.

Freddy knew darn well what lurked in the hearts of men, but that was nothing compared to what lurked in the minds of _children_.

Arthur was still—well, _alive_ wasn’t the right term. The bear grumbled and thought for a second. Existing, yes, that was the word he needed. Like Springtrap had existed while forced to spend years locked in solitude with the murderer. Like he himself had existed when under King’s control, stricken and helpless and wishing for something to relieve his head from that horrible chip. Even _Termination_ would have been a relief for Freddy after he killed Scott. _Existed_ wasn’t necessarily a happy term, but there it was and Arthur was stuck back in the mindscape the Marionette had worked so hard to put behind him. To put behind all of them.

But the Marionette was _gone_ now, and with it all the safeguards and protection that kept the restaurant and its inhabitants safe from Nightmare’s pull. Michael and Foxy had entered the Other World and Freddy had a feeling that made him sick to his motherboard. This time, Nightmare wouldn’t let them go so easily. Heck, the lad could be in trouble right now, and Freddy had no way of knowing! The thought made his acrylic teeth gnash, and he let BB off the hook.

His stomping movements were halted as he heard something scuttle behind him, in the dark of the closed down restaurant. Like he said, Nightmare’s pull had been increasing. The wall between Worlds—broken by the occasional _Door_ , was starting to thin. He was between the office and the new empty Pirate’s Cove, and the world was silent around him. Freddy slowed. Then he finally halted, ears creaking back on a short swivel to track the small pitter patter of footsteps behind him. His towering form churned and moved pistons to allow him to glance over his shoulder at whatever the hell was coming this time.

Soft clangs—almost like the soft munching motions Springtrap’s little maw made—sounded with the footfalls, and the footsteps grew in number, but not size of sound. The muffled movements of fur on thin carpeting got softer as they halted together in a little crowd, unwilling to get any closer unless prompted. They knew their place. To approach before being told would not be polite. Freddy considered the sight before him, because he didn’t need light to see. What was a mystery in the darkness to a human was not to him.

What was something to be feared was never as Bad as he could get.

He shouldn’t be surprised, he mulled to himself as he stroked his wide lower jaw. What with all the darkness and wicked things flying about this building as of late, and with Puppet’s recent Termination, Freddy expected these little trouble makers to have shown up at least a day ago.

Eh, better late than never, as Mike always said.

“Wondered where you three had gone off to. Been lurking under beds have we?” The bear rumbled calmly as he turned to eye the sets of glowing eyes watching him from a doorway.  A doorway that had no doubt been glowing faintly yellow for a moment, no matter how brief. Magic existed, whether someone was there to witness it or not. That’s what made it dangerous. Soft crunching and jittering noises answered him from the smothering blackness. Freddy chuckled.

“Come along, boys.” He beckoned with a wide hand. “Time we put on one more show, I reckon.”

The three sets of glowing eyes shared briefly eager, _hungry_ looks, before scurrying from the darkness and into the light. The three little figures made a beeline for Freddy Fazbear.

Months ago, when the helpless, unwitting night guards had been forced to play King’s game, there had been a pattern.

First Bonnie. Then Chica. Every so often, Foxy.

Then Freddy.

_Always_ Freddy, right at the end. The few who survived the first three often fell victim to Freddy, who played by his own rules —or were they King’s?—and quite often could be accused of cheating technically. Right as the clock neared six, right as hope seemed possible, _Freddy Fazbear was there to getcha._

So Freddy, for the longest time, was that Something Worse waiting around the corner. And after Michael, he had held the silly hope that he wouldn’t ever have to be what lurked in the minds of children again.

How much he had hoped, and how wrong he had been.

* * *

“Well lad, this be another fine mess yee gotten us into.” Foxy said as he absently kicked aside the downed form of his Nightmare self. Nightmare Foxy had put up a good fight for all of a minute before Foxy had trounced him. The original version wandered over to the still unconscious night guard lying by the closet. With some difficulty because he wanted to avoid hurting Mike more, Foxy deposited the lad on the only soft thing in this forsaken room. The pirate fox ignored the way his head lolled on the pillow of the bed, and instead watched the mini-Springtrap come over carrying the flashlight. Foxy shut his jaw in displeasure at the sight of the plastic torture device, but grabbed it between two fingers and set it next to Mike’s hand. If nothing else, a source of light would calm Mike down, and his night guard knew not to aim it at his optics. He could stand a little unease for Mike’s sake.

The floor creaked behind them, and with a metal clang Foxy bared all his impressive teeth and turned sharply with a scowl. He took one threatening step toward his doppelganger, who flinched.

“Get back in yer _Cove_ , swabbie. Or I’ll break yer other hand off this time.” The fox suddenly hissed when he heard movement by the dresser again.

Nightmare Foxy gave a weak warble, and limped around so that the real Foxy was in his eye line. The broken down, beaten up monster slunk submissively into the closet, and nearly shut his own tail on himself. He was gone, and unless someone actively went into the closet, no one would hear from that swabbie again, Foxy decided. Satisfied they wouldn’t be bothered by that useless doppelganger anymore, Foxy became distinctly aware of flat footsteps coming down the left hall outside the door. Remembering what side of the hall his cohort liked to lurk in back in the real world, Foxy swiveled his snout toward that door.

_“Let me take a look first,”_ came a hushed voice his ears had to prick to hear, “ _Don’t just rush in there, Bon, what if it’s Nightmare?”_

Foxy waited, a little confused because his memory banks knew and had registered that young voice.

“Danny?” He spoke as the door creaked and a white face poked in, freezing for just an instant.

“ _Foxy_?” Danny spluttered in surprise, and maybe a little hope. Yes, it certainly was hopeful, because as soon as Danny pulled the door open more Foxy saw the Nightmare looming over his shoulder. The scallywag, hunting poor Daniel like that! It almost made him as mad as seeing the downed Mike on the floor, moments before Nightmare Foxy could eviscerate him.

“Lad, _get down_!” He roared, lunging for the door with his hook so his hand could grab young Danny by the scruff and haul him into the safety of the bedroom.

Nightmare Bonnie gave an indignant shriek of rage—he was much tougher and bolder than Foxy’s counterpart, it seemed—and immediately grabbed the door and wrestled with the fox for entrance. Danny stumbled on the carpet, saw his boss unmoving and feared the worst. He turned anyway, heart in his throat as he leapt between rabbit and fox.

“Wait, don’t!”

Foxy’s programming halted his movements well before his hook could tear the boy’s skin. He didn’t understand what made Nightmare Bonnie stop, though. In fact, the bunny even dropped his red gaze from Foxy, rolling suddenly electric-white optics down at the human interposed between them so frantically.

“Ye be overboard, boy, if ye don’t move yer hide _now_!” Foxy barked, expecting the day guard to obey him. At the very least, maybe look a little frightened at anywhere but Nightmare Bonnie. The kid screamed bloody murder at BB for Creator’s sake!

The horrific model’s growl switched tones, moving up to something that resembled a chirrup that sounded more confused than anything really malicious. It took Foxy several stunned seconds to process that the blueberry colored imposter of his close friend was, in fact, giving little affectionate noises at Danny. Even then, he was sure his one optic was playing a trick on him. His speakers too, must be going faulty and he ought to have Mike look at them. Danny finally glanced at Foxy and spoke.

“He’s not gunna hurt me. He’s one of you guys!” Danny hesitated, “Well, sort of.”

Nightmare Bonnie chomped his teeth, the action void of any real threat. In fact, it sounded like it was done in protest, a harmless _rauh rauh ruah_ noise.

“No, I don’t want to hear it from you either.” Danny turned right on the mechanical monstrosity, and Foxy half expected a finger to be waggled at the bunny. “Only defend yourself from the other Nightmares. You can’t go around _roaring_ at stuff, this is why people get scared of you in the first place! Look, do you want to be a bully, just like Nightmare? Do you?”

Nightmare Bonnie, who lowered his head abject embarrassment, utter a metal croak. _No, he did not._ He raised glowing optics and put on his most pitiful expression, one Danny seemed to buy, because he got off the monster’s case. Foxy meanwhile, had to push up his jaw for a different reason. Not because it was loose, but because he was so shocked he’d let it drop open.

Danny turned back to Foxy, suddenly becoming aware of their little audience. As relieved—and a little worried—as he was to see his boss and the robotic fox, now he felt rather self conscious.

“Uh…h-hi, Foxy.”

“Aye, lad. We been worried about’cha.” Foxy pushed his jaw back up to match his speech as he slyly stated, “Clearly there ain’t no need fer that, what with yer new guard Rabbit on duty.”

“I still need to go home!” Danny protested, then looked down and scuffed the ground—so that’s where Nightmare Bonnie had picked up the body postures to mimic. “Don’t look at me like that….he reminds me of the original Bonnie.”

Foxy nodded, and decided to let the kid off the hook. Besides, Mike would have a field day with this, and Foxy wanted something left of the kid so he could see it.

* * *

_Mike stood in the restaurant, watching over it happily._

_The chatter and bustle of the patrons was making the walls almost glow with happiness. Mike had to admit he felt the same, and he turned his head to get a better sweep of the area. He made a mental note to check Freddy’s gears, because he could hear the bear moving all the way from here—_

No.

Mike groaned and tried to speak. When he couldn’t speak, he realized he had to think. He sent a thought out into his mind, one of the few people on earth who actually got an answer back.

‘ _Gold, stoppit.’_ He asked weakly. The dream abruptly faded from his mind, and he was cast in blackness. Never a good sign, when blackness was preferable to whatever it was you had been dreaming about. It wasn’t long before a familiar Golden light washed over him, hanging near his left side. Mike relaxed.

_‘Ah, my apologies, Michael.’_ Gold’s voice rumbled softly between his ears.

_‘No, no…you don’t have to be sorry, I just…’_ Mike shut his eyes, but it wasn’t much better. Your eyes didn’t really work in dreams. Or thoughts, or wherever he was. _‘I can’t go through that again. Not right now._

_I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t know how to fix this.’_

_‘I know.’_

It wasn’t said accusingly, but having the ghostly bear agree with him still left a pang in his chest. On the one hand, how was he expected to hide his thoughts and feelings from an entity that literally lived inside of him? Mike could tell the others whatever he wanted and make them believe him, but Gold he could never just lie to. He wanted to be a good Suit.

_‘I just want Mari back.’_ It felt childish and pathetic to admit this, because deep down they both knew they weren’t getting the puppet back ever.

_‘…I know, Michael.’_ This time, it was said lower and with much more regret. It occurred to Mike, dimly, that maybe Gold had been sitting there blaming itself, too. After all, he had caused the bite, he had killed Arthur—no matter how indirectly—and he had been unable to fight Nightmare to the point where Mike got dragged back out. And _that_ was when the Puppet showed up, and was killed.

At this realization, Mike let the hot tears that had been waiting for days finally start to slip out. It felt surprisingly good, to cry like this. Gold fell silent, but he knew the entity was still lurking near him. While he didn’t offer physical comfort, the ghost sure as hell offered emotional support.

In some ways, it felt like they were both crying. And Gold never had the ability to do so, to let out his feelings like this. Maybe it was helping them both?

The cathartic tears ended slowly, and Mike inhaled weakly. He could feel his hands, his fingers. His legs and his feet were there. And his heart thudded in his chest like always. For as dark and hopeless as it seemed, he wasn’t dead yet. He still had Gold, and he had Freddy and the rest of the gang on his side. If this was as bad as it got, then Mike needed to stop whining and be thankful this WAS about as worse as it could get.

_‘Well. We’re alive.’_ Mike reminded them both. ‘ _Maybe we can do something with that.’_

‘ _Maybe we can, Michael.’_

The golden glow seared brighter, turning sharp and white-hot. Mike knew what was happening, and instead of fighting it like he used to all those months ago, he forced himself to relax and wait.

After a brief goodbye and a thank you, Mike closed his eyes.

* * *

And opened them again.

Mike sat up, narrowly missing colliding with a long metal muzzle. He recognized it instantly.

“Foxy!” He cried out in relief, and the pirate robot gave him a fond look. “You’re okay! I thought—Nightmare You was—“

“Gone, lad. Yellow-bellied chicken’s a’hiding again.” Foxy assured as Mike sat up a little more, wincing as he rubbed his ribs. “Won’t trouble us no more lad, but…”

“But?” Mike parroted, blinking as he felt Plushtrap scurry up to his shoulder to perch. Apparently the bunny had been sitting on the bed on his other side. He rolled his eyes but ignored the tiny bunny in favor of the much bigger blueberry colored one looming in the corner of the room. He let out a manly squeak, but it was then he noticed Danny, and Foxy’s ‘but’ made sense slowly.

“Who is, uh…your _friend_ , Danny?” Mike asked warily, trying to not let his nerves get the better of him. Strange. The Nightmare wasn’t attacking, wasn’t so much as growling. It was looming over his day guard but for that matter, all the robots had the tendency to loom just by proxy. And those ears didn’t help.

He had been a little sarcastic about the ‘friend’ comment, but know Mike wondered if he was on to something.

“Nightmare Bonnie.” Danny answered, sounding sheepish and giving a weak grin. Nightmare Bonnie’s ears creaked toward Danny’s voice, glowing optics dismissing Mike in favor of watching the teenager, and Mike paused in silence. He _knew_ that look; it was the same look Freddy gave him sometimes.

“There goes our killer robot theory.” Mike said to Foxy softly as he stood up. His hand hit round plastic and he eyed the broken flashlight. He frowned at it, because this thing was useless now, and left it back on the bed.

“Aye.” Though Foxy didn’t seem convinced, Mike was. And he was relieved too. He could work with aggressive robots that were hiding a heart of gold. As it were. His smile widened when Nightmare Bonnie made a point to watch him when he neared Danny.

“He likes you! That’s progress.” Mike congratulated, while Danny gaped at him.

“I, I guess. I never thought—I mean, he saved me from Nightmare Chica.” Danny admitted, sneaking a glance at the robot standing guard beside him.

“He did?” Mike made an impressed noise.

“Yeah, I mean—I also sort of helped him out. I guess, that’s why he didn’t, yanno. Annihilate me—“

Nightmare Bonnie suddenly made a horrific noise. It was piercing and had exactly four beats. It also started roughly with an ‘ahhn’ and ended with ‘aaaateh.’ Once Danny could speak over the garbled attempt at the word, he did.

“It means to, uhm, _kill_. Maul. Attack. _Rawh rawh_ , remember?” Danny nodded when Nightmare Bonnie made the clawing motions and then looked at him for clarification. The head cock and lopsided ear really sold it.  

Mike’s smile spread a little more. “Huh.”

“Lad, I know what yer thinkin.’” Foxy had followed him across the small room and was shaking his great head. “An I want ya to keelhaul that thought, an’stop thinkin what yer thinkin.”

“Thinking what? Foxy, I wasn’t!” The night guard tried for innocent, for all the good it did. Foxy’s dry look with his optics half covered told him the pirate fox wasn’t buying it.

“Aye lad, and Fazbear be thinking’o retiring and starting a flower garden.”

Mike snorted at the very idea. “Come on, what could it hurt? As long as Danny’s around, Nightmare Bonnie looks friendly to me. This is great! We need all the help we can get.”

“We?” Danny blurted, paling by the second.

“I can’t take down Nightmare by myself,” Mike reminded casually. “We need some sort of offensive to get Art back safe and sound.”

“N- _Nightmare_!?”

“Yup,’ Mike popped the ‘p.’ “And it stands to reason, if _one_ nightmare can turn nice, the others could too, couldn’t they?” Back home, the original Bonnie was easily the most stubborn of the lot, seconded only by Foxy. So if Nightmare Bonnie was anything like his counterpart, then that meant Danny already had the toughest one to persuade on their side.

“Lad, we best think this through a bit more. There ain’t no sign that any of the other Nightmares would be interested in an alliance against their leader.” Foxy pointed with a hook. “In fact, now that ole’ Nightmare felt his control slip off one, the others’ll prolly target the one who left the crew in the first place. Ain’t no Captain who likes a mutiny.”

“How do you know that, Foxy?” Mike asked with a curious blink, turning to look at his friend.

“Fer one, I be a Captain meself.” Foxy reminded with a hint of pride. Then his tone sobered up, and a hook leveled over Mike’s shoulder. “And mostly, because Nightmare Chica be standing there giving us all a death glare that could burn through a sail.”

The remaining group turned as one, slowly and with varying expression of panic and surprise. Nightmare Bonnie’s moved from wide eyed and quiet to narrowed and snarling. Something passed between the two Nightmares. It was quick, fleeting and deadly. Nightmare Chica didn’t even so much as look at Mike, Foxy or Danny. Her devilish glare was only for Nightmare Bonnie it seemed, who suddenly was ignoring Danny too.

“W-wait, I don’t think—“ Danny might as well have been speaking to a wall, because a second later Nightmare Bonnie stormed across the floor and toward the right door. Nightmare Chica shoved it ajar and threw her many toothed Cupcake to the ground, where it fell on its side and started to drag itself by its teeth toward the first thing it saw. In this case, it was Mike, who yelped and bolted backward. Plushtrap leapt off his shoulder in one bound and ended up tackling the monster Cupcake himself, the two went rolling. It was hard to tell who was winning that little fight, since Plushtap’s teeth were duller but the Cupcake had no limbs and could only turn its frosted head this way and that.

Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Chica’s fight was much more a clash of titans than the two smaller bots. The problem was, Mike saw quickly, the two were evenly matched. No one could come out on top in this fight, because each one knew the other’s strengths and weaknesses. To make matters worse, all this noise had attracted Nightmare Foxy from his stand-in Cove. Granted, he just stood there, crouched in a pose that allowed him to dart back into his closet at a moment’s notice. But his gaze was on the fighting Nightmares, watching in blank confusion with one leg still hidden in the closet.

“Mr. Schmidt you’ve gotta stop them!” Danny cried, looking scared. But for who? Himself or Nightmare Bonnie? Mike bit his lip.

“Hunh, we could just let’em Terminate each other, matey,” Foxy commented in a sly tone as he kept the two humans behind him and near the bed.

“Hey!” Danny shot an accusatory look at the pirate fox, who sent back his own look. But for once, Danny did not back down with his light glare, and that made up Mike’s mind. The kid was fighting for the robot he had started a bond with. It was up to Mike to help.

“No, Danny’s right Foxy—we gotta do something,” Mike grabbed Plushtrap round the middle and hefted him off the Cupcake. With a metal screech it rolled uselessly on the floor and chomped the air where Mike’s hands had been seconds ago. The night guard turned to Plushtrap, wondering if he had any ideas, but then he noticed the bunny was staring toward the left hall door.

“ _Enough_!”

The heavy southern voice cracked through the air like a thunderclap. Danny turned and scrambled out of the way as something big, brown and sharp came storming down Nightmare Bonnie’s hall. The door slammed against the wall from the force it was opened with, and a hulking figure took up the entire doorway. Both monster rabbit and chicken hesitated, and Nightmare Foxy even shrunk down a little, taking half a step toward his beloved closet.

“Freddy?” Mike breathed in heavy wonder, eyes widening as the monstrosity that had to stoop to get into the room.

It was Freddy Fazbear, alright. Changed, and tattered and torn.  He was missing most of his left ear, and wires jutted from every crack and tear in his body. For a split second Mike feared Nightmare had gotten a hold of him, but then he noticed the drill claws, and the two inch long steel teeth glinting off the dim lighting of the room. His jagged physique was broken only by the chittering, droning little….miniature Freddy’s. There were three of them, each a little smaller than Plustrap, but with just as many sharpened teeth. They clung to Freddy’s body, using hooked claws to hold on until they suddenly released.

One time, when Mike was younger, he had been at a friend’s house for his pool. He had spotted a little frantic spider on a leaf in the water, and without thinking had scooped it up and out. The second it hit the diving board, tiny baby spiders swarmed off their mother while little Mike watched in awe.

Now, years later, Mike can only compare that moment to what the Fredlets did next. The tiny Freddys slipped off the bigger model, fluid and quick like water. Their jutting movements started as soon as they hit the carpet and with a weird buzzing noise scurried right for the fighting Nightmares. Freddy only glared, apparently not needing to speak to control these miniature Fredlets.

Despite having sheer feet and pounds on the tiny things, the robots took one look at them, one look at Nightmare Freddy, and bolted away from each other. They let themselves be herded by these tiny monsters and nearly tripped over themselves to do so. The Fredlets—each sporting their own tiny black hat and bowtie—chomped and let loose noises of static. Apparently satisfied, the Fredlets returned to Freddy’s torso, hooking little claws in and staring with wide white glowing optics. Mike shivered, because the only thing worse was the sudden look he was getting from Fazbear himself.

Somehow, Mike knew. Without having to ask or be told, he knew. This wasn’t some nightmareish dream copy. This was like Mari, or BB. The real Freddy could go Nightmare mode too.

_Camouflaging_.

He swallowed as Nightmare Freddy approached him. Nightmare Bonnie stepped behind Danny, giving a smug look at the other two for having a much nicer hiding place. They glared, but didn’t dare do anything with the second in command around.

“An _you_.” A drill like finger was leveled at the night guard. While the homey southern accent was thick as ever, it was now overlaid with a steady, dark rumble that made Mike’s old Gremlin sound like a purring Mustang. It was _horrifying_. Mike ducked his head, opening his mouth to try to say something, anything. But Freddy wasn’t hearing it.

“Do ya have _any idea_ the worry ya put us through!?” Nightmare Freddy demanded. Funny, even with the growl he sounded more scared than actually livid. He did sound mad though. “How _hare-brained and foolish_ coming here was!”

“I mean, we had to get Danny—“

“Ya coulda told us and WE coulda gotten the boy.” Freddy cut in, firmly. Mike shut his mouth. He hadn’t thought of that. True, he also hadn’t known Freddy could DO this, but…

Thinking back at the pattern of which robots could and could not go Nightmare, maybe Mike ought to have noticed a long time ago.

“I’m disappointed, but not surprised, Michael.” Well, that did it. Mike sunk to sit on the bed and folded his arms, staring pointedly in the opposite direction Nightmare Freddy was. Not even Foxy came to his rescue, though he didn’t quite blame the fox. He paused, because for an instant, there was an IV stand by the bed, and flowers. Then it was gone, and he wasn’t even sure he saw it at all. Mike lifted his head a little. In the back of his mind, when he asked, Gold stirred. Blue eyes squinted again, and this time, Mike saw _more_ than just an IV stand briefly.

Something in the back of his memory moved, like a puzzle piece finally completing a picture.

“Limbo.” Mike whispered, loud enough that Nightmare Freddy caught it. Ignoring everything but the corner of the room he was locked on, Mike stretched out a hand. His fingertips were just near the metal pole of the IV stand when the world shimmered and wobbled. Everyone saw that and made noises of surprise, the Nightmares—except Freddy—jerked back as if this thing could hurt them. The ripples faded when they got too far outward, but Mike simply pushed more of his hand through the curtain of reality.

He sucked in all his breath, reminded himself he had Gold and was Alive, and stood up to force more of his arm through the see-through mirage.

The bedroom erupted into light, leaving the darkness, and everything else, behind.

* * *

When Mike cracked open an eye, he found himself standing in the room exactly where he had been in the bedroom. Except…

Mike turned, staring at the white, white hospital room. It was so bright! He really shouldn’t complain, but you spend enough time in the darkness and a guy gets used to it. He blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust, and instantly wished they hadn’t.

It was then he spotted two figures. One, was the heavily bandaged figure lying under the sheets, its face completely obscured. And what the bandages didn’t cover a face mask did, forcibly keeping air flowing in and out of small lungs. Mike’s stomach twisted as he realized who it was. Little red dots of blood peaked through the gauze around the kid’s forehead, even now. So much blood. Mike swallowed, tearing his gaze from the little prone form lying in the bed. It made him sick to his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if that was really Gold’s reaction, or both of theirs put together. Either way, the night guard didn’t want to see Arthur like this.

The other figure, though, made him step back in shock.

Nightmare Foxy, awkwardly crouched in a plastic chair—and in any other situation the sight might have been comical—was leaning over Arthur’s body and turned its large head up to watch him. The expression was almost desperate—and the eyes.

They were _human_ , those eyes.

Mike swallowed, afraid to move or speak. _Nightmare Foxy_? Of all the nightmares and all the robots, why THIS one?

_“You have to do something_.” The voice echoed from the robot, its clawed hand lying almost gingerly over Arthur’s little limp one.

“…w-what?” Mike blinked, acutely aware of the slouching worn body appearing beside him. Here, in this second level of Arthur’s Limbo, he could _see_ Fredbear! The bear, its sockets black and empty as the void, watched Nightmare Foxy, who ignored Mike altogether and stared intently at Gold. Nightmare Foxy could see Gold too, and for some reason that nagged at the back of Mike’s mind.

_“ **Please**. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him here_.” Nightmare Foxy’s voice wasn’t robotic and snarling. It was tired, young and impossibly heartbroken. The pain in the young male’s voice only got worse as he went on. “ _You can’t let that monster get him! You have to do something! You have to fight back!_ ”

Gold remained silent, which wasn’t entirely unusual. Mike knew he couldn’t speak unless he was in Active mode, but maybe this robot didn’t know that. Maybe this…wasn’t a robot, either.

With no where to look, and unable to stare at that haunted expression in those too-human eyes, Mike glanced around the room slowly. The low, weak beep of the heat monitor pulsed tiredly from the corner. Droopy, tired flowers covering the surfaces their pots could fit. The IV stand, and an untouched tray of applesauce and a Ceram-wrapped sandwich. Sitting against Arthur’s arm, on the same side Mike was standing on, was a little yellow Fredbear plush. Its hat was purple and its tie matched. There wouldn’t have been anything particularly interesting about this plush except for the fact that when Mike stared at it, he saw it staring back. The night guard shivered, and looked away. He didn’t understand, hadn’t Arthur already died? Wasn’t he _already_ a ghost? You couldn’t die again!

…could you?

“ _You have to! You did it before, you can do it again!”_

“Do what?” Gold asked through Mike, both of them wishing desperately that Nightmare Foxy would elaborate, that this answer would be the one to solve all their problems. If he could just tell the duo what it was they needed to do! But the strange voice had fallen eerily silent. Nothing but the heart monitor made a sound now, and for some reason he could sense it was about to slow down.

_“Can you hear me? I don't know if you can hear me....I'm sorry.”_

He was no longer talking to them, and Mike turned away as Gold faded from view. It seemed…intrusive, to look on at the siblings suddenly. But then the night guard heard a voice, coming from somewhere behind Nightmare Foxy, that was entirely new to the conversation but not new to Mike, or Gold’s, ears.

_‘We’ve been through this before, my dear night guard. One open mind sees more than two open eyes.’_

Mike’s heart leapt to his throat, and he whirled back around toward the now still Nightmare Foxy, its limbs and head hanging, like a puppet with its strings cut. Mike’s jaw went slack, and a memory instantly invaded his thoughts.

_“You’ve told me that before.”_

_“I am hoping some day you’ll hear me.”_

Mike noticed the long, long shimmering puppet strings holding Nightmare Foxy’s wrists and neck a second too late. When he tried to speak out, his movement broke the thin world and he was pushed right back into the First Level Limbo of Arthur’s dark, haunted mind.

The strings lead up to a place he couldn’t see, but Mike had seen enough.

* * *

He sucked in a shaky breath; swaying so bad Nightmare Freddy actually put a hand at the small of his back to steady him.

“Son?” His voice still rumbled, but he sounded more concerned than mad at him now. Mike blinked tiredly up at the bear, wondering what his little trip through realities had looked like this time. Had he stayed behind, but fallen silent and still? Had he simply vanished, like a drop of water on a hot skillet? Had it taken hours, or seconds?

The night guard swallowed dryly, and shook his head, his brow knitting as he looked around at the collected menagerie. When his eyes locked with Nightmare Bonnie’s, the monstrous rabbit suddenly shied his gaze away, ducking his head in a submissive little roll. Nightmare Chica had done the same, utterly refusing to even make eye contact with him, as if she was fearful of what she saw behind his cerulean eyes. They were afraid to look at him?

Or at…Gold?

It was then the closet creaked, a bent and worn muzzle of Nightmare Foxy peeking out. Mike’s hopes skyrocketed—then plummeted when the robot snarled and growled and edged clumsily out. No, no this wasn’t the same one he’d just encountered. Even without Gold, Mike could tell. He sighed, feeling dejected.

“Son, we ought to get home.” Nightmare Freddy rumbled. “Danny needs to be with his family.”

“Yeah…” Mike felt more than a little defeated, all of a sudden. Even with those weird visions and discovering the second layer of Limbo, he had more questions than when he started.

“Yeah, you’re right, big guy. Danny, c’mon.” He gestured with his hand, “Let’s get you ba—“

“ _LITTLE MICHAEL.”_

The Nightmares all reacted. Nightmares Chica and Bonnie took steps back as Nightmare forced open the right hall door and ducked in. The floor shook, and Plushtrap and the Fredlets scurried for safety. The Fredlets found their spots on Nightmare Freddy, while Plushtrap scooted up to Mike’s shoulder and waved the useless flashlight in Nightmare’s direction. Mike snorted, giving the bunny an amused glance, because what the hell was that broken thing going to do?

“ _HAVE YOU COME TO FINISH OUR GAME?”_

Mike glared, ignoring Freddy’s clawed hand that tried to sweep him behind his bigger body. His hands tightened to fist but he fought not to raise them.

“Nightmare! Let Arthur go!” Mike begged. “You know this isn’t right—you know he doesn’t belong here like this! He needs to—to go to bed!” Moving on, go to bed, the terms weren’t synonymous but right now Mike had no other way of putting it. And he refused to say ‘die.’ The kid had done that once.

But Nightmare? Nightmare laughed.

“ _FOR A SUIT, YOU SEEM SO PATHETIC. WHAT IS A LITTLE WEAKLING LIKE YOU GOING TO DO AGAINST ME?!”_ Nightmare demanded and Mike’s lips twisted.

“This isn’t about me doing anything against you—you can’t keep Arthur forever!”

_“I CAN’T, CAN I?”_

“Mari couldn’t.” Mike grounded out, this time raising a fist threateningly. “Look what happened to him. The same thing will happen to you, even if I have to do it myself.”

_“YOU?! YOU. THE ONLY THING YOU ARE GOING TO DO, YOU LITTLE BRAT, IS HELP ME FINALLY ESCAPE FROM THIS HELL HOLE!”_

“Escape?” Mike asked, and straightened up, turning frantically to Nightmare Freddy—because he understood! At Freddy’s nod, Mike knew his friend was on the same page. Now, they really couldn’t let Nightmare leave. Nightmare Chica had been a dress rehearsal, to lure the Puppet into Arthur’s Limbo. Mike’s first little escapade had been a happy accident, but it had gotten the ball rolling to get Nightmare that much more solid. Still…

Mike squinted, noticing Nightmare was still slightly smoky and whispy. The shadows surrounded his endoskeleton albeit a little poorly.

“…you want Gold, don’t you.” Mike felt his blood chill, though that might have also been Gold’s own reaction to figuring out Nightmare’s plans.

_“WANT THAT STUPID WRECK? I DESERVE IT! I. NEED. A. SUIT. TRAPPED HERE WITH THESE USELESS FOOLS FOR OVER TWENTY YEARS!”_ Nightmare raged, grabbing Nightmare Bonnie through the center of his face and tossing him carelessly to a wall.

“H-hey!” That was Danny, thankfully ignored by Nightmare when he ran over to his fallen friend and checked to make sure he was still online. Mike heard Nightmare Bonnie warble weakly, but turned his furious glare back to the still distracted Nightmare.

_“THAT STUPID YELLOW WRECK IS THE ONLY SUIT I FIT IN ANYMORE! BUT THEN THAT CHILD’S TOY GAVE HIM TO **YOU** , LITTLE MICHAEL. THE LITTLE NIGHT GUARD. WHERE WAS THE GUARD WHEN I WAS BULLIED BY **HIM**!?!?”_

Mike’s mind raced, and another glance at Freddy confirmed his thought.  

_“I’VE BEEN HERE. FOR YEARS._ _FORCED TO HIDE IN THE SHADOWS. I WILL MAKE THEM PAY, I WILL CRUSH THEM, LIKE THEY CRUSHED ME!! **THEY WILL GET THEIR BIG KISS. FROM. FREDBEAR!”**_

“Arthur…” Because Mike understood more now. Nightmare—an entity all by himself—was channeling Arthur. He was _using_ Arthur, the same way a flashlight used a battery. The same way the Marionette used Arthur—but that was more of a codependent relationship. Mike had never heard Arthur sound so ruined and raw like he did now, listening to the underlying tone of Nightmare’s thunderous rant.

Mike could often see what Gold was doing and who he was looking at when they Switched. Mike reasoned this was the same. Especially when Nightmare’s rant sounded more like a tortured little child’s than a hellish monster who was just angry because it knew no other emotion. It stood to reason, Arthur was in there somewhere. Mike glanced at the downed Nightmare Bonnie, at the monstrous Chica and Nightmare Foxy, and saw only Foxy staring at him unblinkingly. Nightmare Foxy was not subverting his gaze anymore, and his black optics had pinprick starlights gleaming at him as he gazed at Mike.

One open mind.

Silvery light flicked off the strings that were attached to Nightmare Foxy’s wrists and neck. Mike’s resolve hardened to cement, and he turned back to Nightmare.

He stepped forward.

“You're broken.” Mike reasoned gently, wincing at the sluggish, horrific way Nightmare moved. All that smoke—smoke and mirrors. Hiding behind something scary so you didn’t have to be the one who was scared. For an instant, Mike thought he saw a pulse of purple light, buried deep in Nightmare’s smoky, black chest. His hope grew—Arthur could hear him! He was listening.

“We are still your friends. Do you believe that?” Mike asked, taking a step toward Nightmare. His hand lifted, pausing once before it continued on fearlessly, fingers outstretched toward that purple light. Nightmare had gone still and silent—as still and silent as something like it could get.

“I'm still here.” At this point, his words didn’t even feel like his anymore. They felt…different. Heavy, and yellow tasting. Gold.

“I will put you back together—“

**_“NO!”_ **

Oddly, Mike wasn’t eviscerated. He was shoved though, one final desperate attempt by Nightmare to keep his control over Arthur’s soul. Mike stumbled back, tripping and falling and hitting the ground hard. Foxy and Nightmare Freddy reached down and hauled him up, lest Nightmare continue to go after him, but the monster didn’t.

It took Mike a second to realize why.

Sitting on the carpet where he had landed, was…

His _GameBoy_!

He hadn’t put it away when he found Plushtrap with it, so focused on other things. He had instead tucked it into his back pocket, where it lay until now. Sitting on the gray carpet made it stand out all the more, and something strange started happening. It was like the world around the Gameboy was brightening. The sight of it was causing some change to happen, and for a brief, dizzying instant, Mike wondered if Arthur could see the little handheld game from wherever he was trapped. Everyone was now looking at it, following Mike’s gaze toward the point of the room.

Maybe if Arthur recognized it, he could go back to fighting for control!

Nightmare stared down at it, and his eye sockets narrowed, making his red eyes seem more beady and evil than ever before. All the rest of the nightmares, even Nightmare Bonnie, took hesitant steps back from the strange, pastel bright object. Their heads cocked, watching the innocent little device continue to spread a cool warm blue in a smooth blossoming circle of light. Those actions alone gave Mike hope, and he felt his chest lighten. He got to his feet tiredly and with a little smile, reaching for it to make sure nothing else could happen to it. And if the Nightmare gang was anything like the miniature Plushtrap was, maybe he had a chance with them. His was just about to bend down to pick it up, to show Arthur and remind him of all the good in the world there could be—

And then Nightmare’s black foot came down on it, and the sound of cracking plastic broke the air like a gunshot.

The world held its breath.

Mike could still see enough—either by the combined robot’s optics or Gold’s own powers helping him—so when Nightmare drew back with a triumphant roar of pleasure at the decimated Gameboy, Mike saw the damage for himself. His last important connection to the Marionette, and it was in several pieces on the floor, and the one who did it couldn’t care less. Now, the world darkened instantly, the carpet’s color plummeted to cold, deathly gray. Mike couldn’t breathe. Plushtrap noticed the change in the night guard’s demeanor first and quickly grabbed the flashlight. The little bunny wisely bolted under the bed, like a man entering a bomb shelter as he saw the first one fall. Nightmare laughed, not seeming to notice the difference. But Nightmares Bonnie and Chica did. And Danny, and Foxy, who reached for the night guard’s skinny shoulder with his robotic hand. Nightmare Freddy watched it quietly, knowing there wasn’t a chance in Hell anymore, of keeping the peace.

Nightmare Foxy was nowhere to be seen.

“Lad, I think we ought to—“ But what Foxy thought they ought to do, was broken by the sound of a snarling noise. It was more machine than animal, and it was not a noise that belonged to Mike. Foxy stepped back on sheer programmed instinct. Fredbear was the oldest robot. He trumped Fazbear. He was _not_ to be trifled with. There was another roar from Mike, it sounded like this one must have torn his throat or broken skin, and it all consuming and beyond rage. There was no flashing lights, no magical special effects.

Mike Schmidt was simply standing there one moment, eyes wide and lost and broken, and then suddenly Golden Freddy was standing in his place. The bear towered, tore his tiny pinprick eyes from the Gameboy’s remains and turned to Nightmare with murder in his gaze.

What had the Marionette called it?

_Camouflaging?_

Gold could still do that. Gold had turned into a Nightmare. It was a long time ago, but robots don’t just forget programming. They aren’t human. After all this time, it was still startlingly simple to do, Gold discovered. To let teeth grow jagged and sharp, to let claws follow suit and push back any trace of Mike and the humanity he brought with him. For once, Mike didn’t so much as protest. He wanted this in the first place, after all. This was revenge. Nightmare was a monster, all right. But at the end of the day, he was some black smoke and mirrors covering an endoskeleton. Fredbear, the original biter, the one who ‘ _got a big kiss’_ was the one who started this all. He rolled his head a little, getting used to the feel of his blood stained sharp teeth.

So that meant he could end it, couldn’t he?

Nightmare Fredbear scowled at Nightmare. Nightmare, who had to nerve to jeer at him and go,

_“NOW, WE HAVE A FIGHT.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you think you’re sure where you want the story to go, it goes and does this. Well, the end game will still be the same. And, yes, Mike’s speech at Nightmare is by design, completely based off the end of FNAF 4 when Fredbear talks to the Crying Child. What was it the puppet says a bit? History has that nasty habit. Let’s hope not ALL of history repeats itself, though...


	14. Definitely Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Nightmare vs Nightmare  
> *1985 was a good year  
> *One Open Mind

**See the end for author’s notes.**

**ACT II  
Chapter 14. Definitely Dead**

 

Nightmare did not hesitate, and charged right for him.

But the contorted, gruesome figure of Fredbear widened his stance and took the full force of Nightmare’s onslaught. Their fists met the opposing bodies in horrific, thunderous claps, and steel whined in feeble protest as each tried to power over the other down to his knees. This was a life or death battle, and both of them knew it. Despite being evenly matched—both were solid specters, both had human souls backing them, their size and shape almost identical—the two only wrestled and grappled for what seemed a short time. Fredbear tried using his impressive teeth to crunch through Nightmare’s shoulder—for all the good it did. By th way the golden bear drew back and gnashed his jowls, it was clear whatever he’d bit down on didn’t taste pleasant. Abruptly, the tide of power shifted and Nightmare Fredbear was thrown against the wall. The plaster cracked from under its weight, and when it pulled itself out of the bear-sized dent, a few seconds later the wall had fixed itself. Fredbear paused in abject horror to watch this and realize what it meant. It hadn’t done that before.

Nightmare saw the many looks of confusion and worry at the Limbo’s ability to heal itself, and just jeered at them for it.

The spectators winced when Nightmare Fredbear’s gradually movements became limped and unsteady. But his volleyed punch connected square with Nightmare’s black jaw and the monster howled, staggering back. The brief pause was needed by Nightmare Fredbear, who was starting to heave with tired pants.

Mike was getting tired. Emotionally, physically, you name it.

The two monstrosities were the same, but not. Nightmare and Arthur had more than enough energy and power to prolong the fight, whereas Fredbear and Mike had only just gotten their ability to Switch back. And the strain of _Going Nightmare_ was also a First for Mike’s friendly soul, and he wasn’t quite used to the destructive mindset yet. And true, Michael Schmidt had about over a decade in years to Arthur’s little soul. But Arthur’s soul had spent a much longer time in Existence. Arthur was older, technically. And more experienced.

And more scared.

It was a losing match from the start.

The first crackle of golden electricity made Nightmare’s eyes gleam with hungry anticipation.

_“ **AT LAST!”**_ Was all he thundered, grabbing hold of Nightmare Fredbear and using his own weight to throw him into the hall.

Nightmare Freddy, Foxy and the human boy shouted in protest as the door was slammed shut. They were now alone, and Nightmare wouldn’t be interrupted. Even if those other three tried, Nightmare Chica was more than enough to distract them. The door jab rattled and shook, but the door did not open. After a few seconds, the wall glazed over the frame, causing it to appear to vanish. Another new power the Limbo had acquired from its prolonged existence.

Another punch and forceful shove sent Nightmare Fredbear down the hall and into the corner. His elbow shattered the glass window, and the wind howled outside. Rain splattered onto the carpet, staining it damp with rainwater quickly. The thunderstorm had started recently, probably at the same time as their fight. It was a strange, gloomy Forever Night outside, and the hall was dark except for the growing jolts of electricity coming from the beaten Fredbear.

**_“YOU’RE ALL OUT.”_** Nightmare jeered, watching the broken down twin struggle to move from where he was slouched against the wall. His mouth hung open, and the little sparks of errant electricity that sizzled around his joints signaled he was trying to switch with his Suit. Now was the time for Nightmare to act, before Fredbear could hide on him again, and ruin everything.

A pile of tiny teeth and claws came down on his huge outstretched paw, startling Nightmare for a brief instant.

The Fredlets, all lead by a glaring little Plushtrap, swarmed Nightmare and generally made themselves a nuisance. He grabbed one bodily and tossed it, but another took its place and by the time he had gotten rid of that one the other had gotten back up, clawing and chattering and making such a disturbance that his triumph melted to furious frustration. Distracted frustration.

Plushtrap, meanwhile, hopped on the golden downed animatronic’s leg and shook the broken flashlight he still carried. After a few good whacks to the top of it, he tried pushing the switch to On. Light illuminated Fredbear, but that wasn’t all it did.

There was a strange sucking sound, and abruptly Nightmare Fredbear was nothing more than Michael Schmidt once more.

The night guard sucked in air, never having been dragged out in such a rush like that. Whenever they changed, it was because both entities that shared the same body agreed on it! He felt lightheaded—to say nothing of the pain his body was in from going head to head with Nightmare a second time. But he felt mostly alive and intact and he took more gratifying gulps of oxygen and tried to get his wits about him, too. He turned weak blue eyes up to Nightmare, aware that the Fredlets were retreating back down the hall in frenzied scurries. He’d have to thank them later. Or Freddy, or whoever had sent them.

A stunned look later, and the livid Nightmare saw his chance was gone. Golden Freddy was hiding again.

“ ** _NO_**!” If possible, he became even angrier. Mike lifted his head tiredly, and his tired blue eyes were icier than their usual friendly look. Nightmare’s roar was drowned out by the thunder outside. Lightning streaked across the sky, but Plushtrap shoved the working flashlight into Mike’s hand and pointed it at the lunging Nightmare before Mike could realize what even the hell was happening. Mike wasn’t sure if it was the mild concussion speaking or not, but he thought he saw the light get brighter when the casing touched his skin.

And it cast off a lot of warmth, for being a child’s plastic flashlight. Odd.

As soon as the beam of light hit the midnight black monster, Nightmare bellowed a new sound. It sounded like pain, and maybe…terror? Mike watched in weak shock and confusion as Nightmare suddenly just _backed off_ , avoiding the foggy beam and turned around into the right hall. The black monster covered his red-coal burning gaze and staggered farther off. The behemoth ran past the door to the bedroom, and vanished into the blackness, so thick the weak beam of the flashlight—which reached ended four feet anyway—couldn’t even begin to help break it apart.

The rain had stopped, and with Nightmare’s absences brought a cold unsettling stillness. Not even the wind blew, outside.

“…w-what the _hell_?” This was all the moderately and suspiciously alive Mike could manage through his split, bloodied lip. He turned to look at the only other robot in the hall, who was also his rescuer.

“Plushtrap?” Mike asked more than just the bunny’s name. The rabbit watched with deceptive, innocent eyes, and Mike swung the flashlight’s beam of tired, yellow light onto the little bunny slowly.

Plushtrap remained the same, didn’t so much as shield his eyes from the light coming at him. The toy rabbit’s shadow stretched, and the shape of the shadow that Plushtrap created was one Mike hadn’t seen in months. The last time he had seen it, in fact, was in a basement where he was almost killed.

“…I take it this isn’t an ordinary flashlight.” Mike breathed, staring at the rotted shadow shape of Plushtrap, who chomped the air in agreement and darted out of the light. Mike was glad he did, because he couldn’t stop sharing at the shape of the shadow. Still, the little bunny before him _wasn’t_ what the darkness was saying it was. It was just an illusion.

But this little beam of light was _showing_ him the illusion and the reality, not just giving him some light to see by.

And Nightmare had been _scared_ of it. So scared he fled from it.

Mike swallowed dryly, and clutched the smooth casing of the flashlight’s body in tight, quivering fingers. If Plushtrap and the Fredlet’s hadn’t shown up…

The night guard shook his head, then stopped because that hurt, too. He couldn’t think about that just yet. Losing the Marionette and Gold all in the same week would surely send him over an edge he didn’t think he could crawl back out of. So he put his mind on other things. Namely, how he realized Plushtrap had been carrying this thing the entire time and had kept trying to just give it to him. Mike had assumed Plushtrap just wanted to play his Game, and maybe on some level he had. But the bunny had an ulterior motive, and it would have made his life easier of Mike had known about it sooner rather than later.

“You knew what it was for all along.” Mike numbly asked the dark shape of the bunny. Plushtrap climbed up to his leg, turning his head up at the night guard. The bunny nodded, and then turned to watch the flashlight in the man’s hand.

“I can, I can beat Nightmare with this? He’s afraid of the light?”

Plushtrap shrugged. Well. He apparently didn’t know that much.

Mike thought this new information over. Afraid of the light? Or just afraid of what it _showed_? But what would it show on Nightmare? Other than that he was a creepy smokey mess of darkness and evil and hate? He knew he was that. The monster seemed to embrace it. Would it show Arthur? This beam of light had forcibly switched Gold into Mike. Maybe it could do the same to the other duo, if he could just get Nightmare to hold still long enough. Mike’s mental questions were interrupted with the chime of the grandfather clock, and the sound of footfalls. He looked up to see everyone from Danny to Nightmare Chica hurrying round the corner. Nightmares Foxy and Chica hung back, looking nervous and skittish and ready to run at any moment, but Mike would deal with them later.

“I’m okay, gang.” He said when wide eyes fell on him and there was a beat of stunned silence.

“…ya don’look it, matey.” Foxy’s worried growl sounded as he walked over. Nightmare Freddy followed, and the two lifted the young man up. Mike gasped in pain and clutched his ribs, leaning heavily on Foxy to keep some pressure off his bloodied leg.

“Okay, well, I’m _alive_ and still, still _me_. Gold’s with me too, I just—” He inhaled and tried to explain, but he just made them all worried. “Plushtrap showed up, and this _flashlight_! This flashlight scared off Nightmare, guys, you should have seen it—“ Mike paused when they gave him incredulous, worried looks. What! He didn’t sound that crazy.

“I think we best get him home.” Nightmare Freddy told the fox, who nodded. Mike knew it would be a losing battle to argue to stay on turf that wasn’t theirs. Feeling a little swept along, the night guard sighed.

“But the other Nightmares…” Mike did start to protest to leaving them behind. If it wasn’t safe for them when they were on Nightmare’s side, now it definitely wouldn’t be. They hadn’t helped Nightmare kill Mike and take Gold, and Nightmare Chica or Foxy hadn’t prevented the Fredlets or Plushtrap’s from directly hindering Nightmare’s attempts. The hateful bear wouldn’t forget that so easily, Mike knew that in his bones.   

“We’re taking you and Danny back.” Freddy—suddenly, that’s _all_ he was, just old Freddy Fazbear himself—told him gruffly. Mike knew that tone warned zero room for argument, but he whined weakly anyway. Glass optics shot him a stern look but said nothing. Foxy released Mike in the time it took for the skinny guard to be hefted up by the bigger bear animatronic. Mike grunted from the motion but once it stopped and he was allowed to lie in Freddy’s arms, he relaxed slowly. Plushtrap had brazenly clambered up Fazbear, and dropped to sit on Mike’s stomach, holding the now off flashlight Mike’s weak fingers had dropped.

“Hi Trap,” Mike lifted his head and managed a tiny smile. “You wanna come to?”

Freddy looked like he was about to argue, as he carried the night guard to the rabbit’s hall. He stopped before one of the doorways. Foxy was on his left side, Danny on Freddy’s right. Fazbear tried to ignore the three Nightmares tentatively following them, with Nightmare Bonnie right on Danny’s heels. The blueberry colored bunny started an expectant trill but was hushed by Danny before Freddy could really notice him.

Plushtrap turned the flashlight and aimed it into the doorway. The light flickered once or twice before holding, and it illuminated the frame softly.

There was a sizzle, and Mike watched in exhausted wonder as the light cut through the reality and created a Door. He wouldn’t need BB anymore to create them if he had this strange flashlight, and he had been right about one other thing. The flashlight _did_ do more than just show the illusion Arthur’s mind had made up.

It _broke_ it, too. No matter how briefly.

Mike was awake for all of five hazy seconds after that. Because as soon as Freddy started moving, his consciousness faded, and he could fight it off no longer.

* * *

It was another one of those days.

Freddy Fazbear watched as he stood in the doorway to the Dining Hall. Bonnie and…Not-Bonnie stood before one another, a worried and fretting Danny trying to explain to both why they shouldn’t start to rip the other to pieces. Bonnie sent some scathing comment back and Nightmare Bonnie rumbled at the same time and chomped his big bad teeth. Bonnie’s loud declaration of,  “Oh yeah? And your creator too, buster!” was harmless but it made Fred smile briefly at his defiant best friend. Good ole Bon. It wasn’t Bonnie he was worried about, nor was he worried about Danny, since Danny had two robotic rabbits whose only problem was that they didn’t think the other worth their salt in looking out for their chosen kid.

Chica wasn’t even near her Nightmare form, and Freddy didn’t blame her. Nightmare Chica had holed up in the bathroom and was refusing to come out, Chica was in her kitchen. And Nightmare Foxy was a an altogether different problem. He kept hiding under tables and making plays for what Freddy could only assume was the office, where Mike lay.

_Why_ on this good green earth the monstrous, beat up wreck of a fox wanted to get in there was left a mystery to the bear. But Nightmare Foxy wasn’t talking. He was too skittish, and any time someone got close he’d make a great racket and beeline for another dark spot to curl up in. It was then Foxy himself wandered up to check on the situation, and Freddy knew the pirate might have a clue. But first things first.

“He still sleepin?” Freddy asked, not taking his eyes off the two bunnies in case someone threw a punch. Right now, Bonnie looked ready to bludgeon the Nightmare-Him with his guitar and he wouldn’t put it past his best buddy.

“Aye.” Foxy commented quietly, scanning the room for a sign of his doppelganger. “Still breathin. Bleedin stopped, he’ll be alright, Faz.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Ye think that boy would learn his lesson if he got hurt? Use yer head, mate.” Foxy answered back blithely, and Freddy actually gave an absent grin, metal sliding on metal to make the expression. He shook his head, and allowed himself a moment to uncross his arms and cover a side of his head with a paw.

“He’s gunna go back there, Foxy. Minute he wakes up.” Freddy knew he was speaking to the choir, that a line had been drawn the minute Marionette’s broken body had hit the tile. And, Freddy knew from personal experience, too. What sane person in their right mind actually _sought out_ a homicidal controlled robot when he could have just waited?

Michael Schmidt did. He’d come looking for Freddy back during the King episode, and now he’d go looking for Nightmare. This time, neither would stop until the other was dead. Freddy gave an electronic sigh of static. He was getting too old for this malarkey.  

“He won’t let this one go, Foxy.”

“Would _you_ , mate?” Foxy’s comment made Freddy actually turn to look at his friend, taking his eyes off Nightmare Foxy. When this happened, Nightmare Foxy tried to edge out from under a booth, but Foxy turned and sent him such a glare the submissive Nightmare gave a little squawk and shrank back under.

“No. I don’t suppose I would.” Faz carefully admitted after a moment’s thought. “But only thing is, he’s gunna go it alone, _again_. And it might turn out worse. There might not be enough left of him ta bring back, ya see.”

“Ye can’t protect him, Faz. Ye can only prepare him.” In some ways, Foxy must have already had this discussion with himself, Freddy mused. It was probably the only way Foxy could power down at night, without worrying what their treasured night guard was going to get into tomorrow that might blow him up, or eat him or worse. Freddy didn’t sigh, but his large shoulders shifted downward, signaling his heave of exhaustion and disapproval.

“Yer right, Foxy. Stay here, keep an eye on the Dining Hall.” Freddy moved off, clapping his fox friend’s shoulder.

“If he’s awake, tell’im I said hi.” Because Foxy knew it was only a matter of time before Faz’s protective streak would carry him back to the downed night guard’s side.

And indeed it did. Freddy closed the left hall door, but left the right open out of instinct. He could hear things better this way, and he didn’t like the thought of closing Mike into this tiny room with himself. Before Mike could fully wake up, it might spook the kid. He was used to people over the age of thirteen being wary of him, even if Mike was still proving to be different in every way. He never failed to amaze Fazbear.

It was then that Freddy became acutely aware of a couple things. One, his Fredlets for his Nightmare mode were still lurking around. They were in fact, burrowed together like pups under the little cot in Mike’s room, watching him with their beady eyes. They weren’t looking inclined to move anytime soon, nor were they particularly bothering anybody. Freddy didn’t know why, but he did know that there was something about Michael Schmidt that drew others to him. Charisma, that was it. He wasn’t at all surprised to see Plushtrap still stubbornly perched in the rolly chair by Mike’s side, holding the flashlight like a toy soldier holds his wooden rifle. The tiny bunny spotted Fazbear and saluted him. It was adorable, if Fazbear was inclined to like adorable things.

But the most interesting thing, that both Freddy and Plushtrap realized, was the little cell on Mike’s desk was buzzing and ringing insistently.

“Hnn.” Grunted Freddy, who watched the little flip phone buzz along the desk for a beat. If it was left, it might wake poor Mike up. If it was ended, they might call back again. No choice, then. Flipping it open was easy, answering it was another story. His paws hit three buttons at once and Freddy fumbled irately with it for a minute, glad no one but Plushtrap could see him, because the bunny couldn’t talk.

“Blasted thing.” Finally he found a pencil, and jabbed the green button. Plushtrap leaned forward interestedly when Freddy answered it, oversized ears cocking to listen.

“Yes?” Shorter and gruff, certainly not the owner of the phone’s voice.

_“I— Mike? Schmidt, is that you?”_ Freddy searched his hard drive. Yes, he knew that voice, and his facial recognition put the sound to a face and name swiftly.

“Detective Wilde, afternoon. Michael is unable ta get ta his phone righ’ now.” Freddy answered. His black eyebrow plates slide down absently. It wasn’t that he hated the Detective; he just had no reason to like him yet, which was how he saw most Adults until proven otherwise. A little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Mike reminded Fred he hadn’t pulled anything while he was visiting, either. Fazbear considered this. Besides, here with phones between them, Freddy felt he could relax a bit more.

At the very least, if he was rude, it might make matters worse for their night guard further down the road.

_“Uh. Who is this I’m speaking to, please? And could you pass on a message?”_

Freddy shifted his weight, and weighed his options.

“Coworker of his, mister.” Well, he wasn’t lying. “I sure as sugar can, fire away.” Though the man didn’t know it, he was in luck. An artificial intelligence didn’t forget something so easily as the human mind was known to. Freddy didn’t even have to write it down.

_“…Can I have a name, maybe?”_

Freddy tried not to snort. No, you could not, sir. Take your investigation and stick it. Their night guard wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“Fredrick, mister. Can’t stay long though—about that message?”

_“Oh, right—listen. Just, just tell Schmidt I’m swinging by in a few days. I’m at the location of the attraction now. Well, what’s left of it. It’s a smoking crater still but we found something in the basement…”_ Wilde hesitated before going on quickly, like he didn’t want to talk any further on the subject. _“And we really need an ID from your coworker. Should be there by Thursday, Friday at the latest. Got all that?”_

“I’ll tell him.” Freddy said with a clipped tone, because he had a feeling exactly what it was they found. Hopefully, it wouldn’t give Mike any ideas.

_“Thanks. Good luck with the pizzeria, bye.”_ Detective Wilde hung up. Freddy put the phone gingerly back on the desk and turned to glance at the still unconscious young man lying on the cot. Well, _this_ isn’t what they needed to add to the pile. Fazbear’s glass optics lingered a little too long on Plushtrap, who tilted his head innocently at him.

Fazbear had no room to sit, but he leaned his metal frame carefully against the desk, and watched Michael sleep for a bit.

* * *

“Guys, would you _please_ just cut it out!?” Danny tried, a tint of desperation and exasperation lacing his words. He dropped into a booth and held his face in his hands.

Ever since they returned from the weird Other World, all Danny wanted to do was go home, shower and sleep. He couldn’t. Not because he was on shift—though it was his normal working hours if the place had been open—or because he couldn’t get a ride.

No, _those_ were normal teenage problems. Danny was not so lucky. His current situation was brought about by the two bickering, noisy robot rabbits looming over him. One had been, until about an hour ago, nothing more than a figment of a little boy’s imagination. Now it was as real as the original one standing near it, and Danny still couldn’t get over the vast similarities between the two. That aside, Danny didn’t _really_ think Bonnie would be all chummy with his nightmare self—but he never expected this level of hostility. They hadn’t stopped butting heads for one minute since Danny had warily introduced the two. He wished briefly they could be like Nightmare Chica and her original, who took one look at the other, shared death glares and stalked separate ways. And to make matters worse, Fazbear had told Danny to keep an eye on the two Bonnies. He knew what that meant, it was Freddy for, ‘if something goes wrong it’ll be _your_ fault.’ Danny groaned louder and tried to block out Nightmare Bonnie’s guttural, chopped ‘ _rauh rauh’_ that Bonnie, apparently, understood just as well as Danny did. The teen winced.

“Oh _yeah_? Well stick it up your—“

“Bonnie!” It was this tone that, finally, caused both agitated bunnys to stop and turn to look at the kid. “Stop it!”

“You tell _him_ to stop; he’s the one who stole MY face!” Bonnie said, sounding incredibly insulted. “You’re as bad as the Toy model!” Bonnie accused Nightmare Bonnie, but Danny had no idea what he meant by that.

Nightmare Bonnie’s response—in true ‘Bonnie’ form—was to give a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snigger and waggles his rotted ears at his look alike. ‘So c’mere and it back,’ he seemed to mock his doppelganger.

_Stole his face._ Danny’s mind kicked up a swirl of memories like leaf litter and he sat up, turning to address the original Bonnie.

“That reminds me. Bonnie.” The bunny looked to him, “I remember you.” The kid frowned when his stressed, rather theatrical declaration just didn’t elicit a response from his friend.

“Don’t you remember? Danny Fitzgerald? My dad—my dad worked as a _security guard_ at…well, one of the restaurants. I guess it wasn’t this one, but it was one of them! It was a Freddy’s. And you were there! You _were_ , stop looking at me like that!”

There a short, odd pause where Bonnie was utterly still. Like a computer freezing when it choked through a large file it was trying to process. But the moment was fleeting and a second later, Bonnie was rolling his head and shrugging his shoulders like the teens he was programmed to mimic.  

“Sorry, kid.  I was at three restaurants and this is the _only_ one I care to remember. Or can.” Bonnie declared, and when Danny looked crestfallen, the bunny drew his ears back in surprise. That look sort of hurt him, actually.

“Well, it’s not my fault.” Bonnie went on to explain. “I’m sure you were a very nice kid back then—you still are now, infect! Look bud, I even if I did meet you, I sure as hockey sticks don’t remember your father or a night guard bringing kids around. Sorry, Charlie.”

“No. Don’t, it’s…it’s fine.” Danny turned his gaze down to the table he was at. “It was a long shot, anyway. I guess.” They were computers. Computers had memory issues sometimes too. And besides, they had bigger worries on their plates than his need to reconnect with his dead father. That could wait, right now. It felt like the whole restaurant was in some sort of Limbo, just sitting around waiting. As soon as Mr. Schmidt woke up, Danny was sure the guy would start some plan. At least, he hoped so. He didn’t like the thought of Nightmare being able to come and go as he pleased, or the way Nightmare Chica had eyed as she lurched past. Did she remember him? Danny swallowed, but calmed himself when he realized anything trying to get at him would now have to go through two Bonnies, and one was bad enough.

The teen picked at a spot on the table, keeping his gaze behind dark bangs when something moved up to him. Before he could open his mouth, a big purple paw dropped on his shoulder. He looked up, and met those purple glass eyes.

“I _am_ sorry, bucko.” Bonnie told him, staring down. It was odd, but there was more honesty and humanity in those glass optics than Danny had seen in most people he had met. He looked up, and nodded, wondering why his throat felt tight. Then he knew why.

“I like this job. I like working here with you.” Danny swallowed, wondering if this is why his dad came back. Had his dad gotten close with the strange, amazing animatronics? Had he maintained such loyalty to them and for his job that it had come back to bite around him? Literally? Bonnie had been without a face in Danny’s choppy memories, but what about the other robots?

Which one had killed his dad?

“If, if I go away…promise you won’t forget me again? Bon?” Because at Danny’s small words, Bonnie was going all still and silent again, just staring down at him. He was still online, the bunny’s purple eyes light up when he spoke to prove it.

“No, kid. I won’t forget you again.” Bonnie promised, and it was oddly gentle.

Danny managed a tiny smile. Nightmare Bonnie watched them closely, giving a little churr and blinking slowly when Danny looked at him.

* * *

For about the fourth time in the last 24 hours, Mike forced open his eyes.

This time though, he had slept somewhat soundly. And he’d had no dreams—as far as he could recall—plus Gold had gotten to work on their shared body. Mike sat up gingerly, and only felt half as bad as he looked. He tested his leg. While he still had a limp, his lip wasn’t swollen any longer and he could breathe with a sharp stinging pain. So that meant his ribs were on the mend.

“Tell you what, Gold, you could put a lot of hospitals outta business.” Mike whispered to himself as he arched his back a little, trying to get it to pop. Gold didn’t answer, but Mike didn’t blame him. If he could, he’d still be asleep too.

Wheels squeaked as Plushtrap spun around to look at Mike. Who, despite himself, broke into a little amused smile at the sight. He moved across the small room, taking the flashlight this time when it was offered to him. After what he’d learned it was capable of doing, Mike wasn’t going to let this thing out of his sight again.

“Playing night guard, Trap?” He asked when he saw the tablet in the bunny’s little lap. Plushtrap chomped the air with his stout teeth and looked back down at the screen.

“Let’s check up on everyone, shall we? Did the Nightmares come through?” He got his answer when he saw two giant rabbits—one with holes and glowing red eyes—standing by a shorter figure around an arcade game.

“That’s two…” He said, counting robots and leaving Danny out for the moment. “Where’s Chica? Oh, here she is, and here’s Nightmare Chica in the prize room. Separate.” Mike considered the screen of the kitchen. “After what Nightmare Chica did to her kitchen, that’s probably for the best.” Mike decided, and his amused smile grew when Plushtrap nodded along, even though the bunny probably didn’t have a clue as to what Mike was referring.

“That leaves three to go. Freddy’s in Parts and Services—good, I need to talk to him—Foxy’s in the Dining hall. Huh, he looks like he’s lost something.” Indeed, the red pirate fox was moving chairs and lifting table cloths. That was out of Foxy’s normal routine and it sent off a few warning bells in his head. If only because Mike had trained himself to rely on patterns, so when something was amiss, like an out of place Foxy, he had to read the situation quickly.

It was then he realized there was one Nightmare unaccounted for. And it was Foxy’s doppelganger.

“Heey…Plushtrap?” Mike asked slowly, showing the bunny the tablet again. “Have you seen Nightmare Foxy? Did he come with us?” Mike’s stomach sank a little when Plushtrap nodded.

A little stubby paw jabbed Cam 1C.

“Shit.” He breathed, because Nightmare Foxy in Foxy’s Cove was…going to end in disaster. Whatever little treaty they’d worked out while Mike was down for the count—the Nightmares taking solace out here while Nightmare was stuck in Arthur’s mind, maybe?—everything would go to Hell in a balloon basket if Nightmare Foxy did something to Foxy’s Cove. Especially if it was something the original robot didn’t like. And with Foxy looking in the wrong room entirely, looking for something..

Or some _one_.

Well, this painted a bad picture.

“Shit, shit,” He dropped the tablet back onto the chair with Plushtrap and took off down the hall without thinking at a dead sprint. His body protested by the fourth step and he had to slow to an unsteady trot, his lower leg throbbing until it felt like his eyes were leaving their sockets. It was ironic, Mike realized as he headed down the dark hall. Nightmare wanted out and he was only one who _couldn’t_ get out of Limbo. The rest of his friends certainly could, but they weren’t harboring any ill will and hadn’t tried destroying anything this time around.

Mike wondered briefly why, but then his thoughts came to a complete halt.

He’d turned the corner and there stood Nightmare Foxy, who was actually the size of Freddy when he bothered to stand up straight. The robot uttered a growl down at him, and Mike actually squeaked in response. After an agonizing second, Mike found his voice.

“Hii, buddy…hooow do you like the, uh, restaurant so far?” Mike asked with a weak smile. He edged a little farther back the way he had come, deciding that if he absolutely had to make a break for it, he really ought to aim for the Dining Hall. There was no chance in Hell that Gold was going to save him, so his next best bet was the bots. Even if Nightmare Bonnie didn’t help, the other original four would.

His nervousness betrayed him; it was obvious Nightmare Foxy remembered him as the one who had originally encroached on his closet back in Arthur’s Limbo. Nightmare Foxy turned in a tight circle, rather swiftly for something so big, and started pacing toward him slowly. Then he picked up speed.

Mike bolted.

Behind him, steel rang across the floor, but when he tried to cut down a hall to head for the Dining room, a snap of teeth nearly missed his shoulder. Mike yelped and instead ran the direction Nightmare Foxy wasn’t in, and ended up in his office. Dimly, Mike realized that if Nightmare Foxy wasn’t tough enough, then he had to be smart enough to survive so long. The monster had herded him to a part of the restaurant where his screams might not be hard right away. He had closed the right hall door, and his frantic scramble through the left made him skid a few feet. The Fredlets peeked out as Mike turned. He ducked on instinct, but Nightmare Foxy had yet to come around the corner. Plushtrap was gone, and Mike worried where he went, but hoped it was to get help.

The muzzle pushed into view from the darkness, and the rest of the animatronic fox slid into the light as the snarling started.

“Easy…” Mike tried, raising a hand to show he wasn’t thinking of doing anything but stand there. He certainly didn’t want to get into a fight with the thing.

Nightmare Foxy hissed at him and jerked his head, as if to deny any attempts at friendship Mike was trying to start. Well, Mike wasn’t sure he blamed him. From the fresh scuffs and dents, Nightmare Foxy looked like he was bottom rung in the hierarchy of the Nightmare’s little pack. If everyone made you their whipping bot, Mike would be bitter about it too.

That didn’t mean he wanted to become lunch, though, because of some misplaced aggression.

“Wait…”

Mike pressed his back against the wall, watching Nightmare Foxy heave itself fully into the room. The human drew in a tight breath, as a clawed hand came down and steadied the monster as he rocked a few paces away. He was close enough now Mike could count his many teeth, and see the black holes that were his rotted appearance. Nightmare Foxy was a hunched over, brutish form and didn’t seem comfortable moving on anything but all fours when he was close to someone. Even though his hook provided little balance, he still shuffled remarkably quickly on all fours for a robot his size, and opened his mouth to let a ribbed tongue lash a few times. It was sharp and jutted back in like a snake’s, and there was a creak of metal as the monster took up more of the doorway so Mike couldn’t fit out it.

But Mike had one more thing, though, and that was the comforting weight of the plastic flashlight hanging off his belt. Mike fumbled for it, but moved slower when Nightmare Foxy gave an agitated, warning _thhssss_ at him. With agonizing sluggishness, Mike lifted out the flashlight by its handle and aimed it at the worn tile between them. He raised it, and before anything else could happen, clicked it on as he pulled his wrist up.

The light illuminated the ragged, torn up robotic fox.

Fever yellow eyes locked with Mikes blue ones and the night guard felt himself pinned in place.

It wasn’t because of the glow of the optics, but rather the strange way Nightmare Foxy had stilled mid shift. It remained frozen in place, and there wasn’t so much as a twitch from the monster. The old beam of faded golden light held true, and didn’t so much as waver as it did bob weakly. But that was Mike’s fault, and he tightened his fingers around the casing, trying to draw strength from it. It worked, in some strange, desperate way. His hand stopped shaking.

And he wasn’t being mauled.

“…Fox…Foxy?” Mike stuttered, eyes still wide as saucers as he drank in the sight of the bunched up robot. Nightmare Foxy could lunge at anytime, but he plain wasn’t. Its long muzzle remained half open, and its stare was wide and unseeing. Mike let a shiver creep down between his shoulder blades, and he rested most of his upper weight back against the door. All this fear was making him cold, every hair on his the back of his neck screaming for him to ‘ _get out of there, what are you thinking you idiot!?_ ’ Would he reach the right hall door’s button fast enough, and make a break for it? Or maybe just start shouting for the others?

Suddenly, the sickly corn yellow flickered once, twice, and then died abruptly.

When the light came back on, it was black, with small white pinpricks. The color of stars twinkling in the pitch black night, with the strange illumination that suggested every color, all at the same time was crammed in the tiny little starlight eyes. It hurt to stare into those pinprick eyes too long, and Mike found himself squinting as Nightmare Foxy suddenly gave a robotic lurch. Then, Nightmare Foxy spoke, but it was without moving his muzzle at all. His body hung there, useless, like a puppet with its strings cut. The shadow that the flashlight created behind Nightmare Foxy was not its own. Not unless Nightmare Foxy was a slender figure with long hanging limbs and a round head. And there was the voice. It wasn’t a growl. It wasn’t a garble. It wasn’t anything animalistic at all. It was smooth, like liquid nitrogen, and calm as the night sky.

And it was quiet as the grave.  

_“I see you’ve found your open mind, my dear night guard.”_ The voice of the puppet chimed playfully.

_“Now tell me. What do your two eyes see?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I know I’m the worst for the cliffhanger, hahha. Consider this a trick AND treat? There’s a few more parts to this, and then possibly a Sister Location story. Depending. We’ll see.


	15. The Strings of Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Mike and Mari talk, but not of cabbages or kings  
> *The woods out back  
> *The part that Marionette had warned was going to happen to Danny all along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a pretty obvious reference to Joy of Creation in here. Next chapter will be something different. Don’t worry; it should be a much needed break from all the drama and angst that’s going on! You just have to make it through this chapter…and so do the characters.

**ACT II  
Chapter 15. The Strings of Ghosts**

* * *

Mike Schmidt was finding it very hard to breathe.

The puppet watched him quietly from behind the eyes and body of Nightmare Foxy, who still sat crouched and still. At first glance, he looked deactivated, if not entirely defunct. At second, and if you knew where to look, you saw where light glinted off thin puppeteer strings, leading up into the darkness of the ceiling. And you saw that, with every breath, Nightmare Foxy’s black optics followed Mike’s every move.

“M-Mari—you’re—“

_“Not able to stay for long.”_

“What? No, you’re here.” A feeling of dread slowly replaced his initial wonder and disbelief. It was too good to be true. “Aren’t you?”

_“Imagine me as a recording on a phone.”_ Mike glanced at the tired plastic landline phone still sitting in the corner of his desk. An interesting analogy, he decided grimly. _“I’m here, but only to give you a message, and then I have to go. Sad, really, but there it is.”_

“Can’t you just—just _stay_? Your body’s still here, Mari! I didn’t get rid of it.” Mike spoke eagerly, hoping that if the suit still existed, even if it was in pieces, that it would be enough to keep his friend.

_“I’m sorry, night guard. You must remember, without my physical form I’m nothing more than what Arthur was. I’m barely a string of a ghost.”_

Mike lowered his head and stared at the floor. “I’ve wanted to talk to you ever since—ever since Nightmare took Arthur. Now you’re here and I don’t know what to say or how to even begin.”

_“Let’s start with Arthur’s flashlight.”_

“Arthur’s?” Mike looked down at the plastic item in his hand and turned it as if he could find a name on it. “This is Arthur’s? Actually, that makes sense, now that I think about it. Plushtrap gave it to me.”

_“He always was a bit of a Wild Card. We’re fortunate he choose our side to help.”_ Nightmare Foxy—or, the Puppet—inclined the fox’s head to better stare at Mike, who still stood before him.

_“It opens doors. You’ve found that out, already.”_ At Mike’s nod, Mari went on. _“It does not require batteries. It will not turn on for just anyone. It will never fail you as long your heart beats in your chest. Even when I leave, when Arthur passes on, it’s yours, now. Yours and Fredbear’s.”_

“O…okay.”

_“And there is one more thing it does, which you’ve seen but could not put a name to. It **shows**.” _ The puppet whispered eagerly.

“It…shows? What?” Mike frowned and gave the flashlight one more critical stare.

_“Whatever is there. Whatever is trying to hide. Light reveals all. Wherever there is darkness waiting, that flashlight will show you the true nature of whatever is lurking. If you know what is in the dark, you can’t be afraid of the unknown. If you can see the strings, you can’t buy into the act.”_

“Mari, do you mean…like what happened when Plushtrap turned this on Nightmare?” Mike could still remember the fear and insane anger on the monster’s face as he had flung himself back into the shadows. “It didn’t show anything but him, he still looked terrifying.”

_“Looks can be deceiving.”_

“Not the most cryptic thing you’ve said.” Mike mused with a small wry smile. “But you’re right.”

_“I know.”_

“What about Art? What about that second level of Limbo I saw when I touched the IV stand?” Mike stuck his lips out in a thoughtful pout. “There’s more to this, than what I’m seeing. Is that where you’re hiding for now, Mari?”

_“It is.”_

“So…so can you come back?”

_“Briefly. And using Nightmare Foxy as a conduit. Only then.”_

“Can you ever, you know,” Mike had to ask. “Come back to _stay_?”

_“We both know the answer to that, my dear night guard.”_

And before anything else, the black and white pinprick eyes flickered, and died.

_“I was right about that day guard. He’s waking up ghosts. It’s something he may or may not regret. And one more thing. Don’t be afraid of this Foxy._

_He’s as scared as you are, but unlike you, he has every right to be…”_

Marionette’s words died as a fading whisper, so that Mike had to lean forward to hear them. Unfortunately, this put him right in Nightmare Foxy’s space just as the robot reactivated. The nightmare lashed out defensively with a twist of its long maw. Mike gasped as jaws snapped at him, but it wasn’t a bite to kill. Or even connect.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mike breathed as he stumbled back, but Nightmare Foxy only growled at him. The noise was ragged and grouchy, but instead of lunging Nightmare Foxy gathered its limbs under it and arched its back. It looked more like a Halloween cat than anything truly aggressive, just spooked. Besides, Mike trusted Mari. If Mari said to not be afraid, he would do his best to not be.   

Those teeth were longer than his fingers, though.

The night guard tried to steady his hyper heart beat and slapped on a weak smile. His smile faded as quickly as it had come, when he realized what was in the puppet’s place was once more the shadow of Nightmare Foxy. Arthur’s flashlight only did so much, it seemed.

“See ya, Mari.” He whispered, earning a confused glance from the monstrosity still looming in the doorway. After a moment to allow himself some sadness, Mike realized he felt better than he had in days. His smile returned and this time, though it was still uneasy, it maintained its kindness and reflected in his light blue eyes. Nightmare Foxy just looked confused at the gash of teeth. He even cocked his head, not unlike a puppy. Mike weighed his options, and then remembered where they were. And how it looked in comparison to the world Nightmare Foxy was used to.

“So…you…want my office to use as your closet?” Mike asked, reminding himself again the puppet’s words.

He received a long, hard stare. Twinges of confusion and suspicion laced the narrowed look Nightmare Foxy gave him. The ragged and torn Foxy—in even worse shape than his real world counterpart, Mike realized with a sympathetic wince—gurgled and growled again. But it was quieter this time. And, if Mike had to make an educated guess, it was almost questioning.

“Uh, well,” Mike turned and hit the door button behind him. The right door slammed shut on cue, and Nightmare Foxy only jumped a little. “See? You can have your privacy, and not be in Foxy’s Cove. That’s sort of his space, but I understand you wanting some too. Just, I only ask you let me in when I need it, alright?” Mike wondered if he was making a mistake, doing this. He calmed his brief worry with the reminder that if he hit the power for a second, the doors would slide back up. This was probably something Nightmare Foxy didn’t know, and that’s what Mike was banking on.

“What do you say?”

Nightmare Foxy glared at him, but made a play lunge to go under the desk. When Mike didn’t move to stop him, he shoved the rest of his hulking body under it, the desk top shuddering a little. All that stuck out was the long matted tail, and Mike coughed to keep from snickering.

“Yeah. You can go in there. I guess.”  He exited by way of the left hall, not surprised to feel little grabby paws on his ankle and climbing all the way back up to his shoulder.

“And where were you, mister? Leaving me to get eaten.” Mike teased Plushtrap, who bobbed his lopsided ears back at him with twin creaks of metal. “Yeah, a lot of help you were.”

“He was, actually.” A deep voice rumbled and Mike jumped and spun. Despite finding Freddy Fazbear no more than three feet from him, Schmidt’s smile got wider and his whole body relaxed.

“I was just about to look for you, big guy!” If Freddy noticed his suddenly cheerful demeanor, he didn’t comment on it. That was most likely because he was glancing into the security office and looking incredibly mean.

“That darn fox giving you trouble?”

“What, who? Nightmare Foxy? No, no!” Mike moved just a fraction so he was between the hall door and Freddy, just in case. His robot might argue with him, but he’d never physically hurt him. “Freddy, wait til I tell you what happened!”

Now, Freddy pulled his grim glower to turn faintly worried optics on Mike. “I got somethin’ ta tell you too, son. But I’m gunna ask ya to think over what yer first instinct is. And to not to.”

Mike’s curiosity got the better of him, like it usually did. “What about, Freddy? Is everything alright?”

“Oh, I’m sure somewhere it is, son.” Freddy clapped a plate sized paw on the night guard’s boney shoulder and gently but firmly steered him toward Parts and Services.

Unlike what it used to mean when a robot was trying to take you to that room, Mike followed along willingly. Whatever this was, it was important, and Freddy wanted some privacy from the rest of the robots about it. Strange, but it was not wholly uncharacteristic of the bear. Stranger still was Plushtrap abandoned his perch on Mike’s shoulder the instant they passed the arcade part of the Dining hall. He glanced back to see the bunny had become preoccupied with one of the games. It looked like _Foxy’s Toss the Squid_ or perhaps _Bonnie’s Bash Jam._ Either way, it was now just him and Fazbear, and Mike blinked as Fred shut the behind him when they entered Parts and Services.

“What’s eating you, big guy?” Mike asked. He reached up and tugged on the pull string to illuminate the room. Friendly or not, this place was still eerie even. And there was only so much light that Mike could wire into here without blowing a circuit breaker.

“While you were…sleeping, ya got a call.” Freddy leaned against the bench against the wall where the door was, and folded his arms.

“Okay.” The night guard hopped up to sit on the bench and watched Freddy, tilting his head a little. “Anyone I should be concerned about? They’re not coming to take me away, are they?” He joked, but at Freddy’s little look he quieted. With Fazbear’s protective streak, maybe he shouldn’t joke about something like that. Freddy clearly didn’t find him funny, and Bonnie wasn’t here to back Mike’s jokes up.

“It was that cop, son. He’s comin’ here again.”

“Detective Wilde? Oh…kay. Well, still doesn’t sound _too_ bad. I mean, as long as he isn’t bringing me in for questioning again I don’t see why—“

“Worse.” Freddy interrupted. “He’s bringing Springtrap. He found ‘im in the basement.”

Mike fell silent. 

“Spring’s…they _found_ him? Do you think he’s okay!? Maybe we can get him back online—Freddy this is great news!” Mike almost didn’t notice Freddy’s even stare at him. It wasn’t a look of joy, either.

“…you don’t want Springtrap here.” Mike took a stab. Freddy shook his head actually. He wasn’t entirely agreeing with Mike’s guess.

“It ain’t that, son. He could stay here, but off the floor.” Mike nodded, knowing what Freddy meant, unfortunately. Even if—and it was a _big_ if—they got Springtrap online and responsive, well…there was a reason he was almost used as a horror attraction. That yellow rabbit was not kid friendly anymore on the outside. He couldn’t walk the floors of the restaurant as an active robot. They would close down faster than they already were.

“Spring’s time was years ago. There ain’t no place for him here or anywhere else. Soon, we’ll be headin’ for that too.” Freddy held up a paw when Mike opened his mouth to argue. “There’s no more restaurants, son. You know that. We’re the last ones.”

“Yeah, but—“

“No buts. Yer spreadin’ yerself thin enough as it is. Michael. Listen ta me, _please_.” Freddy’s tone was quiet and deep as ever, but there’s was a touch of desperation that made Mike pause. And for once, actually truly listen to the old bear. “Nightmare and Arthur are something ya can prolly fix, provided ya let us all help. An we _will_.

But I’ve given it a lot of thought, an after we finish that…I think it’s time we packed up.”

“…w-what?” Mike’s voice felt smaller than the smallest bolt holding Freddy’s endoskeleton together. When he found it again, it was still weak. “You mean… _close the restaurant_? Freddy, no…”

“At the end of this year. I’d rather go out and leave you something to live off of. I don’t wanna run this place and you inta the ground, and ruin ya, son.”

“Freddy, I don’t want—we were just starting to get above water again!” Mike protested.

“And then Nightmare came along, and we ain’t gunna be open for another two weeks at best. We can’t afford the renovations as it is. Son. We all need to let go. You taught me that.”

Mike bowed his head, and was silent for a long while. He was quiet, but it was obvious the silence was tense and a tangled mess of negative emotions. Freddy knew Mike was stubborn. He just hadn’t taken into account how stubborn.

“…half a year.” He said, and when he looked up, his jaw was set and his look was firm.

“Pardon?” Freddy blinked his glass optics at him, as if hoping Mike had misspoke.

“Gimme, just gimmie six more months. Please. I _know_ we can turn this thing around, Freddy. You’re not going to lose your jobs; I’m not going to just walk away from this! Foxy once told me this is what _you_ were made for. Entertaining kids and giving them a place to escape their lives, if only for a little while.”

“Son—“

“Please, Freddy! Six months. Do you know how long I’ve spent doing what I was told to I had to do even though I hated it? How many jobs had me doing stuff that just made me want to quit or, or take up drinking?” Mike shook his head, running a hand through his messy bangs to keep them out of his face. “Well, not this job. I, I get to work on robots, I get to work _with_ robots. The tech here is amazing, I’ve never felt closer to any human in my life than I do you guys. Doing this, working here, _being with you guys,_ this is what _I’m_ made for, you know? I’m the night guard. I need to keep doing it. _Please_.”

Freddy studied the young man a moment, all tense and white knuckles clutching the steel sheet of the table he was sitting on. His deep blue eyes were dark with fear and desperation, and it was a look Freddy was used to seeing on human’s faces in this room.

The reason was new, though.

Despite everything telling him otherwise, despite the sheer painful logic of the situation that his computer-brain told him was the inevitable truth…

Freddy folded like a house of cards. He really couldn’t deny this kid anything.

“Six months.” He repeated, but it was with clarification. And warning. “No more, no less.”

Mike was up and off the bench and had flung his arms around the bear’s girth. Despite Freddy’s stout fur, under that was nothing but metal and he hit the bear with a thud that probably hurt Mike a little. Fazbear couldn’t help but snort in amusement at this, and hugged Mike back.

“But on one condition.” Freddy finally spoke up, leaning back to look down at his human.

“…what is it?” Mike asked, blinking up at him from where he stood, leaning all his weight on the big robotic bear.

“Springtrap goes in the basement, and that’s where he stays.”

“Okay, big guy.”

“ _Promise_?” Freddy stressed.

“I promise.”

Freddy wondered how Mike was going to think of a loophole around this one, but decided he would worry about that later. After they took care of Nightmare and got the Crying Child back.

* * *

“What are you doing?”

Danny walked up to Nightmare Bonnie, who was staring fixedly outside. He had found the bunny in the Prize Room, which now seemed bigger and emptier than ever before now that the Marionette was gone. Nightmare Bon was standing at the one window, looking out over the back parking lot. It was hard to tell what he was looking at, but the sun was heavy and red along the tree tops. The harvest tinge made the woods out back look even more foreboding, because most of them had lost their leaves by now. Their spiky, branching arms spread like an old man’s fingers and Danny knew if they went outside, they would hear the clack of thin wood hitting itself from when the wind rustled the scraggly trees.

And it was getting _so_ dark.

“That’s a forest, buddy.” Danny spoke up, when Nightmare Bonnie hardly spared him a glance.  “We uh, well the animatronics aren’t allowed to leave the restaurant. Mike’s rules.” Actually, he had a feeling they were older rules than his boss’, who seemed open to the idea of the robots doing whatever the heck they wanted. Come to think of it, Danny had seen Freddy outside on the sidewalk once or twice, but the bear never strayed far and he certainly never was in the back parking lot. And Freddy had made it clear only he was allowed outside, as much as Bonnie whined and begged. Danny was sure the old bear robot had a reason but whatever it was, he hadn’t divulged it with anyone except maybe Mike. So, yeah. No one was allowed outside if you were made of metal and a machine.

So _why_ was a blot of yellow moving further into the trees?

Danny squinted, locking on to what Nightmare Bonnie had been watching all along. There it was, just at the start of the old woods, moving unhindered despite the awful mat of tangled brush and big looming oaks and pines. And it was definitely yellow and round, and looked remarkably like—

“C-Chica!?” The teen cried. He tried to get a better angle, but the figure moved just right and was getting smaller and smaller. “Oh man, oh man this isn’t good!”

Nightmare Bonnie churred at Danny when he started panicking, and finally swept his optics over to stare down at the kid. Danny knew Nightmare Bonnie was asking him a question, but before the human could answer, another sweeter and cheerful voice sounded behind them from the hall.

“What’s not good, sweetie?”

Danny froze, he knew that voice! He spun in place to stare at Chica—the normal, kid-friendly version that loved her kitchen almost as much as her little kiddos. His stomach sank because of what that meant.

“… _Nightmare_ Chica.” Was all Danny groaned in realization, clapping a hand over his face. He shouldn’t be surprised by this. “That’s why you were looking, she’s your friend—“

Well, Danny _supposed_ she was. Maybe Nightmare Bonnie didn’t like her as much as the normal Bonnie liked the normal Chica. Nightmare Bonnie gurgled at him again, grating his teeth together lightly. Finally, this was an answer Danny could understand.

“Danny? What’s all this about? Maybe we’d better go talk to Mikey.” Chica coaxed gently, ignoring Nightmare Bonnie for the moment. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Uh yeah. I wish.” Danny muttered, but followed the yellow bird robot to Parts and Services. A ghost, at least, was probably not as harmless as what had just gotten loose and stalked into the woods out back. Nightmare Bonnie turned to look over his shoulder back at the window, his rotted mouth moving open a fraction as if he was going to call the fellow Nightmare back.

He didn’t, of course, because he couldn’t.

* * *

“She went **WHERE**?!”

Danny winced from behind Nightmare Bonnie, because Mr. Schmidt hardly ever yelled. He wasn’t even yelling at anyone, not really. It was just, when his voice got high enough and he was agitated by something, and if you were standing at just the right angle, Mike’s eyes turned space-deep black with little gold pinpricks. It was like that weird other side of him—Gold—was stirring and just as upset.

“She must have gotten out through the back door, Mikey.” Chica explained, unphased by the brief flash of Gold that had reared in their mild mannered night guard. She made a sympathetic noise, but it wasn’t for Nightmare Chica. “It’s almost night fall, and that old forest doesn’t lead anywhere with people. Plus, we’re not made for speed, sweetie. ”

“Yeah Mike, sis is right.” That was Bonnie, who had wandered over with Foxy. Freddy stood, arms folded behind Mike and not looking happy at all. “Just let us go out and get her, it’ll be fine.” The bunny offered with a grin. Freddy, like usual, saw right through it.

“Absolutely _not_ , Bon.” That was Freddy, his deep voice making everyone wince. “The day guard and I will go out and get her.”

“M-me!?”

“Freddy, Danny’s shift is over.” Mike commented carelessly over his shoulder, “This wasn’t his fault, and you know that, big guy. Be nice.”

Danny wondered how Mike had learned to read Freddy’s mind, but then decided maybe it just came with being with the robot all the time. All that mattered was the hardened stare that had driven Danny behind Nightmare Bonnie’s back lessened obediently. Albeit just a little. Danny edged back out, now that he wasn’t in danger of death by Faz-glare.

“I, I don’t mind…” Danny glanced up at the blueberry colored shadow he had since he given the rabbit back his ear. He felt a little better, actually, because Nightmare Bonnie stared right back and slid up his lower eye plates, mimicking an affectionate look. “As long as Nightmare Bonnie can come with us. I think he and, he and Nightmare Chica are friends. You know? Maybe he can talk her back easier than…force.”

Mike went quiet, which meant he was thinking. After about three minutes, he spoke up.

“I’m afraid to leave, actually. Especially if Nightmare tries coming through.” Mike pinched the bridge of his nose and knitted his eyes shut, as if he had a headache. “And everyone but Freddy still has their protocols locking them to the restaurant layout. To take that off now would take about an hour each, and I’m not risking that length of time…uugh.” He ended in a little groan but lowered his hand and addressed the group.

“Alright. Here’s the plan. Freddy, you Danny and Nightmare Bonnie—who I’m sure I couldn’t stop if I tried, so I won’t—you three go out and bring Nightmare Chica in. In one piece, Fazbear.” Mike warned as Freddy started moving out from behind him.

“Because Danny’s right. If the Nightmares are so much like their counterparts, then Nightmare Bon might have a better chance than you or Danny. Danny, take one of the walkie talkies.”

“Not so like us they can’t leave, apparently.” The original Bonnie grumbled, but was ignored.

“It…it reaches _that_ far?” Danny paused mid step, turning back to look at his boss, who was smiling a little.

“No, it reaches the gang. If you get split up from Freddy, you can still talk to him.” At Danny’s stare, the night guard shrugged. “I get bored at night. So I tinker.”

“Tinker, he calls it.” Foxy cackled, earning a little pout from Mike. “Last time ye tinkered, just ‘bout blew up the stage.”

The other three walked off, but Mike stood with Foxy and crossed his arms as Bonnie and Chica lingered.

“Just one time! And I fixed it!” He defended.

“Oh, aye. Now the lights flicker when the back door bell rings.” Foxy commented judgingly, and Chica shook her head. She left the boys to go see the others off, and most likely to ask Danny if he wanted a snack before leaving.

Mike grinned, and rolled his eyes. “Oh, well. I thought that’s what you all wanted. Now that I know, I definitely won’t do it next time.” He answered sarcastically, just as playful.

Bonnie mumbled something about Parts and Services, but everyone knew he was going to sulk.

“Lying to yer Cap’n, lad.” Foxy feigned a weary, pained look, metal muzzle dropping open and eyes closing as he swung his head to the side. He looked more like a half-dead crocodile, albeit a metallic one. “Imma ashamed a’ya.”

“Sure, Foxy.”

The night guard couldn’t help but snicker as he headed back for his office. Speaking of tinkering, he needed to figure out how the flashlight that hung at his belt worked. His worry for the little posse he had sent out was only matched by his worry for the roaming Nightmare Chica. Something was acting up with her, but they wouldn’t find out what until Freddy and the others brought her back. That aside, he had a feeling that with a little work he could get Nightmare Foxy on their side more.

It was just a matter of patience, and like Mari had said. Keeping an open mind.

* * *

The woods out back were even more monstrous than they had been when they were little black sticks. Trees sat in crowds and rows along the outskirts of the restaurant’s back parking lot, some swaying in the high wind above, while shorter ones remained still as the grave.

Danny crossed the blacktop, and counted the yellow painted parking spaces he could see by Freddy’s twin high beam eyes. The light was so bright even his acrylic teeth were illuminated, so Danny made sure to walk in front of, and a little off to the side of the bear. Nightmare Bonnie didn’t seem to understand the use of lights, because the monstrosity lumbered on unhindered in the darkening twilight as if it were clear as day. Maybe, Danny wondered, the Nightmares felt more at home in the dark than in the light. He glanced up into the waiting woods, and thought of Nightmare Chica out there, waiting among the branches. She could be any shape, any figure, perfectly hidden but also able to see them. She would be watching them, watching him, and staring. Waiting.

This thought made his throat a little dry, and he went back to counting the parking spaces. He had just gotten to the last row of tar when he noticed all the spots had faded here and had never been repainted.

And after that, nature took over. Stubby, hard grass felt stiff under his sneakers as he left the pavement, but the earth below that gave a bit. He paused, not really worried about himself but realizing the robots weren’t exactly outfitted in cleats, and they were heavy.

“It’s a little soft here,” Danny called, then instantly lowered his voice. Shouting would probably only draw Nightmare Chica to him faster. And if Danny could help it, he wanted one of the other two to find her first. He clutched the heavy plastic walkie-talkie tighter; deciding if push came to shove it was a pretty blunt object.

Freddy nodded, and angled himself for a different spot. He didn’t sink much, but he also kept moving. Danny hurried to stay between the two animatronic’s hulking bodies.

Danny didn’t so much mind his own footsteps—though the rustle of leaves had initially caused him to pause. It was mostly because Nightmare Bonnie didn’t make any sound at all when he was moving, and it was creepy when you realized there was movement but no sound. It was like a movie with the sound off time, except this was reality and the only noise Danny heard was his own footsteps.

That’s right. Even Freddy moved quieter than Danny was capable of, and Freddy was most certainly real.

The uneasy teen tried to think of it logically. He had _two_ animatronics on his side, and Nightmare Chica was by herself. Realistically, and as long as they were smart, nothing would happen because she was outnumbered three to one. Something scurried in the underbrush to his left, in the darkness, and Danny jumped into Nightmare Bonnie’s side. He soon abandoned his weak attempts at logic. None of this made any sense, and he just hoped he stayed alive until it ended, so he at least had something interesting to tell his friends at school.

“Careful, boy.” Freddy warned, having seen the kid spook. Nightmare Bonnie, for his part, turned his creaking head down to Danny and whirred his gears a little. The nightmare bunny had halted the instant the human collided with him. The sound he made was gentle and supposed to be soothing, Danny decided. The teen nodded and kept walking, forcing his lead heavy legs further into the forest.

He paused once more, to look behind them. The little restaurant sat a few acres away, up on a hill Danny hadn’t noticed until he had walked away from it. The forest was lower than the restaurant, so now the building looked more unreachable than ever. A little warm yellow square of light was all Danny had left of the warm interior of the restaurant he used to be terrified of. Now it felt like a lighthouse in the middle of a sea, because at least in there Danny had the cameras, and heating and food and Bonnie. Reluctantly, he gave the restaurant his back and reminded himself that as long as he could see that blot of warm light, he could find his way back.

Green eyes squinted uselessly into the darkness, and he strained harder as if he could force them to adjust faster than humanly possible.

“I don’t see her at all.” He whispered, suddenly afraid to speak above anything more than that.

Nightmare Bonnie gave a staggered, metallic response. It was nothing more than a throaty grunt that sounded more confused than anything. He was looking around to, as if deciding the best way his fellow Nightmare had gone. Suddenly, he lurched in a seemingly random direction, again without disturbing the forest floor. By the time Danny realized the two robots had silently decided to split up, they were several paces from him and he had yet to decide which way to go, left or right.

“Wuh—wait!” Danny hissed, scrambling to catch up. He paused, hesitating between the parting robots. Freddy was a light source, he didn’t think he need the walkie-talkie so long as Freddy kept his eyes illuminated. But Nightmare Bonnie liked him more and was, in general, someone Danny felt safer with. If he waited too long, it would become impossible to see Nightmare Bonnie at all, he had even turned his optics down. Danny wondered why, but decided not to dwell on it.

Far above him, an owl called into the night.

It was mildly comforting to hear normal night sounds, because Danny was used to horror movies and what he had expected next was the scream of a ghost or a baby crying. None of that happened, in fact. It was quiet as the grave, and every time the wind did move it wasn’t with any real effort. Down closer to the forest floor, the wind was chilly and Danny chafed his arms to get rid of his goose bumps. It almost worked. The teen craned his eyes and ears too, suddenly more afraid of the unknown than what they knew was currently lurking in it.

His pause cost him more than his battle of wills did, because a second later Danny realized he had no idea where Fazbear or Nightmare Bonnie had gone off to.

“Nightmare B-Bon? Mr. Fazbear? Anyone?” He tried, and stiffened mid step when he heard a noise. His terror melted to warm, groggy relief when he spotted the two white circles of light staring at him through the trees. It was straight ahead, and no more than fifteen, ten feet away! That made sense; he didn’t think Freddy would just leave him behind, not with Mike waiting for them back at the restaurant. Danny sagged and headed straight for the light beams, relieved Freddy had turned around to wait for him.

By the time he hauled himself over a fallen log, the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end. Taking his eyes off the little circles of white light, he spun around. He could no longer see the restaurant. The teen stared back in front of him in abject horror. The thing he had been following had closed the distance faster than any of the animatronics he knew could. It had also floated through a tree, as if it weren’t there at all. At first he had thought it was Freddy, because the eyes were glowing and full as the moon. Then he thought it was Nightmare Bonnie, because it had two long, tall ears and was pitch black and moved soundlessly.

Then he realized it was neither of them, and that it was still grinning madly at him with a gaping full toothed smile. Danny screamed, which is about the only thing that comes to mind in this sort of situation.

The wide grin got wider, and the body got darker.

And somewhere, an owl hooted.

* * *

 

**_END OF ACT II._ **

“ _Some tiny creature, mad with wrath, is coming nearer on the path.” -_ Edward Gorey


	16. Intermission: One-Hundred Minus One Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a very…interesting week. While I’ve said my bit on tumblr, this story is for escape. Writing it in my spare time is a way to decompress from reality, and I hope, dear Reader, it brings you some sense of relaxation as well. For between the second and third acts, I’ve decided to do what I did in Devil’s Spine. This is pointlessly sheer fluff and nonsense, with Mike/Freddy brotp feels all around. (Ya’ll, if you know my writing outside of FNAF, I got feels for platonic partnerships/close friendships.)  
> So, while there IS brief plot, this is really nothing but filler, AND it has nothing to do with the story. Since Danny isn’t in it, imagine the following scenes happened between London Bridge and Ghost Strings. Just lil ole me playing around in my sand box, making sand castles. Enjoy!

_“As soon as I saw you, I knew an adventure was going to happen.” –A.A. Milne_

* * *

**X _._** **Intermission: One-Hundred Minus One Day**

 

There is a story of a boy and his bear.

Well, there are a handful of them. Paddington, to name one. The story of the 3 bears and one atrocious little girl. Another story of a boy in a hundred acre woods and his best friend. And if you are very lucky, you _do_ get a story that is a little off the cuff from the outside, but just the same deep emotional connection on the inside. Nothing is ever black and white, and truth is stranger than fiction, and sometimes, the monsters inside of us win. They aren’t very fun stories, but they are real. And they do exist. They can start out scary, dark, and foreboding.

All the best things do.

So, while this _is_ a story of a boy and his bear, it’s actually more a story of a _bear and his boy_. It’s also a ghost story. And, for the most part, it is a happy story.

“Ya’lright up there, son?” Freddy called up toward the Dining Hall ceiling, where half their night guard stuck out from a gaping hole in the moved apart tiles.

Mike leaned his weight back a little, so he could look down from where he had stuck his upper body up in the old eggshell colored ceiling of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. He was a shaggy looking guy, with the wiry frame of a rabbit and more angles and joints than anything else. But all the softness in the world was in his friendly blue eyes. When he looked down at the titular character of the restaurant he worked in, Mike wiped sweat from his brow but the smile stayed.

“I mean, the bad news is there’s definitely mice living up here.” He started, giving a little one shoulder shrug.

Freddy gave an electronic groan of displeasure. Rodents! Of all things. They might be well received in certain amusement parks in Florida, but here at Freddy’s an infestation was the last thing they needed.

“And the _good_ news?” Freddy drawled, his southern tone alluding to his opinion there was no good news about this situation. Like usual, Mike never failed to surprise him.  

“I found the hole in the roof where we keep getting leaks!” At Freddy’s stare, Mike shrugged back again and maintained his cheerful optimism, that which occasionally bordered on frantic. This was not one of those times.

“Silver lining, big guy. Now I can _finally_ patch it up once and for all.” He coughed and waved the stale air away from him. “I’m coming down. I want to get some plaster from the storage closet and then head back up here, okay?”

The rickety ladder was held in the iron-vice grip of Freddy. Mike clambered down and hopped the last two steps to land on the table that the ladder was still worryingly balanced on.

“Careful, son.” Freddy warned, but Mike just laughed and waved him off.

“Fred, you worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount.” Fred snarked back. He watching Mike go off, still laughing.

“That boy.” He grunted, but it was too fond to really be that mad. It was then he became acutely aware of the knocking coming from across the big sprawling Dining Hall. This was odd, Freddy thought with a mild confused glare because the place was closed. Upon further examination, it was not the door. No, the knocking was coming somewhere in the walls, maybe the south side. He couldn’t be sure, because he certainly didn’t have Bonnie’s ears.

Freddy squinted into the darkness where the arcade games sat, clustered like little children sitting in their desk rows. A second later he noticed the too white teeth and round eyes.

“…Uh-huh.” Freddy eyed the shadow-bunny as he walked back to his spot on the stage. Shadow Bonnie’s many square white teeth gleamed from the blackness as the rabbit wobbled a little closer on smoky legs. It was mimicking walking, and it was doing a poor job. Freddy fought a shudder, because to be afraid of these useless spooks was sheer nonsense.

As if hearing his thoughts, Shadow Bonnie gave a little off hinged cackle at him, further distracting the bear as he watched the specter.

“This ain’t the time fer yer nonsense, ya shadow copies.” He warned, and stalked dismissively off. They were, as far as Freddy and the others had always been concerned, not very good for much. Shadow Bonnie giggled again, the inhuman noise grating on Freddy’s thoughts and making him turn to really look at the black bunny to see what on earth was so funny. Freddy didn’t see anything, but he kept watching the ghost for a moment more. There were two; though Freddy couldn’t see the purple smoky one that vaguely resembled him. Right now he could only make out the one they just referred to as Shadow Bonnie. Sometimes, Fazbear thought they were hallucinations—though they didn’t explain why the _robots_ could see them too. Chica and Foxy thought they were shadows of the Gold models from the diner back in the 40’s. But that didn’t make sense either. Springtrap was still around—sort of—and Fredbear was _yellow_ , not deep…purple. Besides, Gold was haunting Mike Schmidt currently. Who ever heard of ghosts of things that still existed? You had to be dead to have a ghost!

Didn’t you?

Freddy hadn’t realized how much time he’d wasted standing there watching Shadow Bonnie. What was irksome was Shadow Bonnie was doing the exact same thing, just stand there. Staring. Freddy’s good mood dropped a little and he frowned at the sight of the ghost’s unhinged grin.

They weren’t spooky or dangerous, but upon further reflection Freddy realized something.

The two strange shadow copies of him and Bonnie that lurked around had never really paid the robots much attention. It was Adults—night guards—they always went after.

The realization struck Freddy like an electrical shock to his main frame and he jerked to life.

Shadow Bonnie giggled again, and the whole building was suddenly very dark, and felt very heavy. The restaurant shuddered weakly as a large clatter of noise sounded. It sounded like something had crashed far off.

Shadow Bonnie giggled again and disappeared sharply.

Freddy didn’t pay the rabbit any attention, because that’s what got him in trouble in the first place, he realized. He now knew what that damned ghost had been up to, and it was a sneaky trick, distracting him like that. He was angry, but even angrier at himself for falling for the trick. Even worse, it was one he knew well. How many nights had he made Bonnie and Chica go stand by the cameras, staring dead into it so an unsuspecting, terrified night guard would get distracted and leave room for Freddy Fazbear to come a’calling?

There was no telling _what_ the shadow copy of his had been able to do to Mike while he wasn’t looking!

Freddy rounded the corner and there, by the little storage closet by the back exit, was his night guard. Mike was sitting under a pile of junk that had apparently toppled out from the closet, and he was rubbing his head.

“Shit…”

Freddy didn’t even mention the swear jar, he just moved up to Mike fast as he could without shaking apart his own body.

“Michael!”

Mike jumped and twisted around guiltily, leaning back on one wrist. “F-Freddy! All I’ve got is three quarters; can’t we just call this one a draw?” He begged, and Freddy blinked.

“Forget about the blasted jar, son! Look at you!”

“Oh,” Mike still had a hand on his head, but had stopped rubbing it. As Freddy got closer he noticed Mike looked more than a little dazed. “I’ll clean this up, I didn’t think that paint can would take the whole thing down, I just…owww. My head.”

Freddy glanced at the floor, and saw about six separate items that could have hit the night guard on the head and caused more damage than just a bump. He glared at the entirety of the closet’s contents, while knowing deep down it hadn’t been their fault, or even Mike’s. While he couldn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary, he had spent enough time haunted by the ghost of a little child that Freddy maintained the ability to sense disturbances. Something had been here, and he was surprised it hadn’t set Gold off. Mike was Gold’s suit for the express purpose that accidents wouldn’t happen like this!

Well, now he was moving his anger from Shadow Freddy to Gold, and that wasn’t fair either. So Freddy refocused on the gangly pile of limbs under several cans of paint, some metal beams, a helium tank or four, and several sad looking brooms and buckets.

“What the hockey sticks happened _here_?” Came a younger male voice, a little higher and much more sharper than Freddy’s rich drawl. Fred turned and watched Bonnie walk up, his ears trained on the pile of objects. No doubt that’s how Bonnie had found them, and he had probably heard the crash all the way from where he was lurking in Parts and Services.

“Closet fell on Mike. Help me move this junk offa him, Bon.” He said, in a tone that warned time was of the essence. Bonnie’s big ears picked up every microscope inflection, and red glass optics shot him a knowing look as he got closer. Ears aside, Bonnie came programmed to Freddy just like Freddy did to him. The only one who knew him better might just be the young man they were digging out.

“Righto, Faz.” Bonnie, for all his sarcastic comments and rude streak, was Freddy’s right pawed rabbit for a reason. And not just because it was in their programming to be best friends. Bonnie was reliable and personable, and lively. And Fred knew he cared for Mike as much he or any of the others did. Bonnie would play pranks until the cows came home, but they usually included Mike, not targeted him. Now Freddy was sure what had happened, and it made him angry all over again.

Mike made some nondescript, weak attempts to apologize again, but Freddy wouldn’t hear of it. Bonnie scoffed at him too.

“Give it a rest, Mike. You’re a mess and this stuff can wait.” Bonnie leaned into the closet, so small it didn’t even have a camera. “Wow, you really did bring the whole place down.”

“Nevermind mind about cleaning, we’ll get one of the others to do it.” Freddy said gruffly, stooping to take hold of the young man under his arms and hefted him up easily. Letting go was a different story, because Mike’s legs tangled around themselves and he swayed dangerously. Freddy pulled him tighter against him, as if to create a physical cage with his tree trunk arms so if Mike fell to one side he wouldn’t go down again.

“Yer hurt, son.” Fazbear’s face plates slid down to make a displeased expression. He didn’t like this.

“Jus’a little bump, ow, ow,” Mike protested weakly, trying to rub the pain out. “I fine feel.” He paused when Freddy stared at him and Mike realized what he had said. “…maybe I’ll get some ice for this…”

“Maybe you’ll go to a doctor’s.” Fazbear growled gently, but Mike knew there was just an undercurrent of worry in that grunt.

“What? It’s too late for that, Freddy—time I mean!” He assured when Freddy shot him a startled stare, his round ears jerking upward. “Only Emergency is open at this hour. I can’t afford that.” Mike laughed but it was mirthless and he was still holding his head.

“I’ll get Foxy and start cleaning up here, Fred. You go make sure Mike’s still in one piece.” Bonnie waved him off with a big violet paw when Freddy glanced at the bunny. Fazbear turned back to Schmidt.

“Then _I’m_ taking care of ya, and I won’t hear another word on it.” Freddy growled, and though Mike groaned softly, it might have been because his ankle had gotten more screwed up than he thought. Walking was dizzying and painful now, but at least the pain was keeping him conscious.

There was a chilly flicker across Freddy’s glass blue optics.

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, sensing it immediately. Freddy had to give him credit. The kid’s reflexes were as sharp as ever, even if it had been a few months since he’d been stalked by deadly robots.

“…must be seeing things.” Freddy drawled, glaring venomously until Shadow Bonnie giggled and vanished. Mike blinked and followed his gaze a second too late, cocking his head as he stared at Foxy’s curtain. He saw the subtle shift it had done, even though there was no natural air flow and turned back to Freddy.

“Like he—heck you are. You don’t see things. What is it, Freddy?” Mike demanded in his grip, and it was almost funny, this little twig demanding anything of something that could snap his neck with one paw if Freddy was so inclined.

“Son. Let’s just get you some care.” And though Freddy looked troubled, and Mike pouted further, he left the subject drop. For now.

Care turned out to be his office, and Mike shifted to sit on the little cot in the back of the cramped room. Not before long, and just as Freddy started saying something about getting the first aid kit, when the giant present box sitting on Mike’s desk opened with a soft crinkle of ribbon.

“Hey Mari.” Mike supplied, sounding a little tired and pained.

_“Night guard? What happened_?” The black figure turned to Freddy for these answers, almost sounding a touch accusatory. Freddy didn’t blame the puppet, but Mike wasn’t about to let him take the fall for anything, it seemed.

“I was an idiot and pulled out a bucket of paint from that disaster of a closet. Brought the whole thing down on, made such a mess…”

“ _Of  yourself.”_ Mari tsked calmly, floating over to inspect their night guard for itself. “ _You could be seriously injured, does your skull hurt that much?”_

“Eh, I think just some ice will numb the pain.” Mike tried.

_“Here, Freddy.”_ Mari, apparently satisfied Mike wasn’t about to keel over on them, floated back over and reached into his empty present box. A moment later his skeletal fingers drew out one of the many first aid kits Mike had stashed in the back of the kitchen cabinets the week after a little girl fell and banged her knee. Thankfully the parents had been more reasonable than Mike was used to dealing with, and they had seen their child trip when she wasn’t supposed to be running. The free ice cream cake coupon and a handful of balloons had only helped though, the way Mike saw it. And the robots doted on her so much she might as well have been the birthday girl.

That’s a bit how Mike felt now, with both Mari and Freddy fussing over him.

“Oh, Freddy, c’mon!” Mike held his new ice pack against his skull and grumbled. He tried to duck from Freddy’s paw, but it caught him by the collar and he went instinctively limp. The young man still grouched as he was straightened up and a flashlight trained on his eyes. He fought a squint and looked ahead to the Celebrate poster above his desk as directed.

“Where’d you guys learn this anyway? I thought your first aid protocol was just for accidents ages 13 and down.” Mike half asked, half complained. Freddy made an amused noise but didn’t release him until he had finished and Mari drew back.

Mike was ignored, so he crossed his arms to show his displeasure. This only seemed to make Faz smile more, and Mike reluctantly softened. They were only looking out for him, he supposed. Mari had somewhat taken over the first aid, instructing Freddy where to bandage what and how tight it should be.

_“If anything else were wrong, it is no longer serious enough to warrant a hospital visit.”_ The Marionette confirmed. This thankfully seemed to put Fazbear at ease. “ _Gold can take it from here, but observation for the remainder of the night will only help.”_

“Mari, whyyy,” Mike whined, because he knew that gleam in Freddy’s eye. “I still have to fix the ceiling, you know!”

“That ceiling will be there in a few days, son. You’re on cot rest for the remainder of the night.”

“But it’s—it’s barely _midnight._ ” Mike realized with growing horror. “That’s six hours, you big mother hen!”

“Ya got the tablet.” Freddy said, handing it over with a sweep of his thick arm. Mike snatched it and booted it up.

“Fine. But I’m doing this under protest, I hope you know.”

“I’m aware, son.” Freddy’s grin was giving him away though, and Mike maturely stuck out his tongue a little. Another grunt of amusement, and Freddy took the first aid to go return it to Chica and, Mike secretly hoped, get him a snack. As soon as Freddy was down the hall and Mike could no longer hear him, his eyes darted to the left hall door. He weighed his options of getting up and finding something to do himself, but one look at the puppet in the present box and Mike slouched back onto the thin mattress.

“I wasn’t.” He defended, but it was weak and the puppet was much less amused than Freddy had been. “I feel fine now, really! Can’t you talk him into letting me work on anything? Foxy’s lights could use some tweaking he said, and there’s always—“

_“You asked before about our first aid capabilities.”_ This was a little off the cuff, but then, most things the puppet said were. Still, Mike blinked and looked at him with questioning blue eyes.

_“They had been upgraded recently, as a matter of fact.”_

“What? Who?” Mike searched his memory. “We haven’t had a tech guy in here in ages, and I know I didn’t do anything on your last check up.”

_“Freddy asked me to do it.”_ And there was something else in the puppet’s gaze, that made Mike go silent. “ _He came to me after closing one night, and we both used the internet to find sufficient information. After I discarded what was irrelevant based on our limitations—obviously, we cannot set a broken leg—I uploaded the data into their main frames. FazISO 1.9.8.5 now grants the four floor animatronics basic Emergency Medical Training.”_

Mike stared at him, a little awestruck.

“…you guys turned yourselves into, what, like basic EMT’s? What the hell for?”

  _“For **you**. That, I recall, was Freddy’s answer to me when I asked.”_ Mari answered calmly, watching the effect it had on the night guard. He ducked his gaze sheepishly, staring at his worn sneakers. “ _You can imagine, the rest of the band had no qualms. Especially since this information also helps children that might require us until trained medical teams arrive. This information could mean the different between life or death._

_He is only trying to protect you. We have little else.”_

“…I know, Mari.” And as the puppet lowered back into its box, Mike looked up, raising a hand to stop the vanishing animatronic for a second.

“Thanks.”

_“Of course, my dear night guard.”_ The puppet chimed back, its smile meeting its gaze. _“Ask Arthur, after all. Few things are more precious than a boy and his bear.”_

Mike managed a tiny smile at that comment, and watched as the puppet tucked itself entirely back into its home. A few seconds later the tune to _My Grandfather’s Clock_ started up, and Mike stood.

He knew he’d get in trouble for this, but screw it. Mike peeked out of the right hall door and made his way out, aiming for the Dining Hall.

“Hey, buddy.”

“ _Michael_?” Freddy’s expression went a little dark and concerned as he closed the distance between them down the long hall. “Thought I asked ya ta stay put, son.”

But by now Mike saw the little paper tray of nachos and cheese in the bear’s great mitt. Called it! And he put on his most dashing smile. It worked, because Freddy grumbled and handed over the food.

“Sitting in the booths will be softer, you know. I’ll rest there.” Mike offered, scarfing down a few cheesy-gooey chips. “Besides, the booths are big enough for you too, and I can see what’s going on.”

Well, that did it. Fazbear went silent and shadowed him all the way to the booths.

Mike was good the entire way there, and almost had the bear convinced until he tripped over a chair leg and stumbled. He was up and off the ground in the time it took for the nachos to hit the ground with a sad greasy splat.

“…awh.” Mike looked down from his sudden cage of robot arms. “My nachos.”

“Son, we can get more.”

“I know, but what a waste of food. Hey, we just mopped, I bet—“

“Boy, you put that in your mouth, we’re gunna have a problem.” Freddy cut him off with a short, clipped tone.

“Joking! I was joking.” Mike turned back to Freddy, going so far as to innocently bat his own powder-blue eyes.

“Fine, I won’t! But a moment of silence for my lost cheesy goodness.” Mike said instead, laughing a little when Freddy rolled his eyes, looking remarkably human.

Mike considered the fact that he still had not been let down.

Freddy had his tree trunk arms under him. So he was supporting most of it, if not all, Mike’s weight. Besides, it wasn’t a long drop to the floor and Mike trusted Freddy enough to know the bear wouldn’t drop him, or hurt him. Even if Fazbear did have several pounds and almost a foot of height on him. Mike’s blue eyes crinkled a little as he realized how close Freddy was studying his face, and the night guard grinned. He decided now was a good a time as any to fluster the big old bear that was his closest friend. With both hands splayed against his head behind his ears, Mike took advantage of Freddy’s pause of surprise and dropped his forehead to rest between Freddy’s optics. Mike’s own eyes were closed, but he could hear, and somewhat feel, the optics click so that Freddy was almost crossed eyed to try and stare at him.

Freddy had just sort of…stilled at the close contact Mike had initiated. For a second, Mike thought he had shut down for some reason, but the faint glow of his optics meant he was still active and responsive to his surroundings. Metal, fiber-glass eyelids swung lower. Mike realized what was happening even as he craned to watch it from his slouched over posture. Freddy was relaxing and with that went his motor control, because the first thing he shut down was his cameras, so his optics were sliding closed. It was a mechanical response but so very human, and Mike smiled a little. He knew Freddy could be scary and powerful, but he was still made for kids, and sometimes he could be really cute. The great metal force around Mike seemed to relax, at least just a little.

They stayed like that, for more than Mike or even Freddy realized, just two beings sharing the same space. It was friendly, it was safe, and it was open. Each one knew the other, and as much as they could get frustrated by the other—Freddy’s over-protectiveness and tendency to be a little brutal, Mike’s stubborn and willful actions—they still loved the other one like best friends did. That’s just how it _was_. Mike kept his forehead pressed against the space just up between his eyebrows, and felt his lips tug into a wider smile. He wasn’t the type to outwardly gloat and brag, but he found it hard to not feel a little bit of pride when it occurred to him that there was no one he had met, or possibly would meet, that Freddy would allow to be this comfortable around.

“Thanks for having my back, big guy.” Mike told him. It was soft and quiet, like a whispered secret between them.

Having the humans’ body so close and in his care both worried and elated Freddy, because Mike trusted him. He had been hunted, hounded, beaten and bruised, but Mike had still seen it wasn’t Freddy’s fault. And he had forgiven him for it, and only tried to help them. The amount of trust bordered on foolishness, but Freddy would be lying if he said it didn’t warm his cold endoskeleton in strange ways.

If he met more Adults like Mike Schmidt, Freddy is sure he’d be less worried about children.

Mike considered briefly talking to Freddy about what Mari had told him, but just as quickly he dismissed the idea. For some reason, just knowing was enough and telling Freddy seemed a little arbitrary. _Mike_ knew Freddy cared and worried about him, and _Freddy_ knew Mike appreciated it.

Freddy set him down when the bear was good and ready, and it was onto the red vinyl plush sets of the booths. He then, to Mike’s heavy amusement, muttered something nondescript about going and getting the night guard a new snack. Mike watched him wander off and stayed obediently in the booth this time.

It was half because he felt bad making Freddy worry, and also half because the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up again. With folded arms and a slouched posture that betrayed his watchful gaze, Mike glanced out of the corner of his eye. Across the Dining Hall stood two shadow figures, ones he had seen more and more often lately. He wasn’t sure what they were there for, or why, but every time it had been before some minor inconvenience happened. Like they were bad luck charms, heralding that somewhere, for some reason, a plate was about to break, or a breaker would get thrown again. Mike had picked up the pattern the third time it happened, but so far he had been too busy to address. And really, the little strange incidents were harmless compared to what the restaurant was used to. Mike didn’t want things to get worse, but so far he was also afraid to… _poke the bear_ , as it were.

Their white eyes and teeth made them appear to be laughing silently at some hilarious joke. But it was the shapes they always took that spooked him a bit. Because as far as Mike could see, they were shapes of the Freddy and Bonnie models, and that just made him tense a little more.

Huh. He wondered if they had anything to do with—

“Yalright, son?” Freddy asked carefully as the bear lumbered back over. Mike blinked out his reverie, and in the time it took to open his eyes again, the shadow forms were gone.

“Fine, Faz.” Mike smiled back at him, especially since this time he was getting nachos, French fries and a cupcake. “Did you tell Chica I fell?” He asked with a little laugh, because Chica’s idea of First Aid was blessed, blessed junk food and milkshakes. Mike had once asked her about ‘cooking for health’ and she had cheerfully responded with ‘What’s healthier for you than the food you love?’ And the night guard decided he couldn’t really argue with that. Nor did he want too, because it had meant he was getting mac and cheese with hot dogs that night. Mike was glad he had some form of self control left, but there were days his diet was so bad even his younger college self would wince.

“Bon did.” Freddy answered, handing over the food. He rolled this blue optics at the sheer amount of ketchup that drowned the fries.

“Thank youuu,” Mike told him as he dug in, reminding the looming animatronic playfully a good appetite meant he was probably _not_ concussed or in need of a hospital.

“That how it works, is it?” Freddy asked, and wondered what Mike’s secretive smile he gave the table cloth was about.

“Maybe, maybe not. I never paid attention in my health class in high school.” Mike responded conversationally, “And _that_ was a few years ago anyway.”

“Just do me and my meddlin’ mind a favor son, and _try_ to keep yourself from any big projects for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll do my best.” Mike promised with a salute, but his eyes kept straying to the table with the ladder heading toward the still open ceiling.

It was in fact, several hours later when Mike stretched from his position and yawned. Freddy glanced over from where he was wiping down tables and could tell the kid’s stillness was about to come to an abrupt halt. Freddy wondered, idly, what took him this long.

“What if I at least get started?” Immediately the bargaining came, but to Mike’s credit he hadn’t moved from the booth yet. Despite not saying on word about the ceiling since one am—and it now being close to five—Mike and Freddy had long since picked up a little shorthand that required few words and left others a bit confused.

“What if _I_ lock you in Parts and Service and finally get ya ta slow down, son?” Freddy snarked back. And though Mike looked taken aback, he also seemed mildly delighted at the remark. He liked when Freddy got playful, it was usually deadpan and for some reason hilarious. Maybe because the bear was always the straight man of the gang of friends, and nothing was better than when the straight man had had enough and started firing back.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Mike tried, sitting up to lean over the back of the booth to follow Freddy’s slow amble round to the next section of speckled, sticky tables.

“Try me.” Freddy grunted, not looking up from where he was placing a checkered table cloth back.

“Okay, you _would_ do that—but you know doors don’t exactly hold Gold.” He reminded with that usual grin.

“Hnnh. Put ya in Foxy’s care then. That animatronic a’yours can do many things, but ain’t even Gold can’t out run that wily scallywag.” Freddy shot back, and Mike’s smile faltered because, well. Freddy was right. And he would not put it past the leader to make Foxy night guard-sit if it meant keeping Mike in one piece. Mike tried for sympathy, and to play on the old bear’s better angels, what few still lingered.

“…Freddy, I feel useless just sitting here.” Mike bit his lip and went for the killing blow, “It reminds me of the first week.”

Mike watched Fazbear actually pause mid cleaning, like a computer hitching mid program command. And the night guard even got a little look tossed his way.

“I admire that trait, Michael, but there’s a time and place.” Freddy said, and though at first glance it seemed like Mike’s words had gotten nowhere, he knew the bear too well.

“If I feel light headed or dizzy, I’ll come right down. How’s that?” Mike’s knee was starting to bob from lack of stimulation. Freddy saw this and weighed his options, knowing that if he wasn’t careful, Mike might go off by himself and that _would_ require finding the key to Parts and Services.

“Ah’suppose so.” Freddy settled on slowly, not looking too happy but also knowing Gold at least wouldn’t let the boy push himself.

“Do you have time to gimmie a hand, big guy?” Mike asked, looking relieved as he pushed up from the booth and grabbed his garbage to toss out. Now, Freddy could have bet you that phrase was coming. In return for letting him do something, Mike was asking him to come along. He was putting trust in Freddy to be there with him just in case he did need him at some point.

_‘ **I’ve** got time.’_ Freddy thought to himself. _‘But do **you**?’ _ To Freddy, this was always one of the worst parts about his job. Children grew up into adults, and adults grew up into the elderly, and the elderly stopped because at some point, humans died. Humans had a life expectancy. A shelf life. Freddy and his friends did not. Sure, a battery could die, a fuse could blow, but everything about him was replaceable, right down to his smallest screw. Freddy was careful to not let that thought leave his hard drive, knowing that it would distract Mike from the time they did have together.

Freddy only nodded, watching Mike throw out the paper plates and noticed Mike wasn’t moving sluggishly or stiffly anymore. He probably was well on the mend, and a little work would keep him under Freddy’s watchful gaze and also hopefully keep the Shadow Duo off his tail.

 “C’mon Fred. You can hold the ladder again.” Mike gave him that kind smile, the one that made Freddy make promises he couldn’t keep and throw all of his logical, normal computer thoughts right out the window. The one that almost, for just an instant, made Freddy think that maybe he knew what it was like to be human.

Because Mike knew that Freddy felt safer when he was in control, and Freddy knew that Mike trusted him to be in control and not let him get hurt.

It’s a nice, comforting reminder and it softens Freddy just a fraction more.

Maybe Michael was right. Maybe he _did_ worry too much, because as long as Freddy was around, he was confident their night guard would be alright.

“Comin, Michael.”

Freddy had time, and that time was for Michael.

* * *

**"** _So they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on top of the Forest, a little boy and his bear will always be playing.” -A.A. Milne_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll get back to the start of the final Act of Ghost Strings next time. Stand your ground.


	17. The Rabbit Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *More like your father everyday.  
> *Freddy tells his story.  
> *Springtrap goes back to a basement.

**ACT III  
Chapter 17. The Rabbit Returns**

* * *

 

_When he was little, the world was big and full of wonder._

_There was no place bigger, and no place more wondrous to him, than where his dad worked. If he were old enough to brag it was the type of job you told your envious friends over the lunch table. And his was the kind of father you dragged to Show-and-Tell every Friday and watched the looks on everyone’s faces as the man explained what it was he did._

_“I’m a night guard, at Freddy Fazbear’s Restaurant. All night I sit there, you see, and I get to make sure the animatronics are a-okay.” Jeremy Fitzgerald would say and smile, holding up his little metal badge with the bear’s head. Little Danny didn’t care much for the new Freddy—the plastic bear and his noisy gang were overzealous, too friendly, and too shiny for Danny’s liking. No, Danny’s favorite place was the back room, where the old models were, though he couldn’t remember many of them clearly. He remembered they didn’t move too well, most of them not at all. Sometimes Freddy moved, but he thought it was a trick of the light._

_He was young, maybe seven or eight, when he was allowed to go with his dad on a shift. It was about the same time that his lunches became a little smaller, but Danny didn’t know the correlation between the two yet. He was too young, and the world was too new and too wondrous for him to think about anything like poverty or money or putting food on the table._

_Danny remembered peeking into a big, dark room once, a room he shouldn’t have been in, and remembered vaguely a white painted face staring back at him. Its skeletal black frame shifted toward him and he had shied back. The tiny child had eased out slowly, because it was the same look his grandmother gave him. The same look she gave when she found him in her vanity touching her favorite string of pearls when he was told not to._

_And he remembered the towering purple monster with its big black face, and its teeny red eyes. Danny thought it looked hilarious, and he laughed at it. As a child, he didn’t realize how strange it was when the monster laughed back._

_He had been scooped up with big purple paws and taken right back to his father’s office, through its large gaping mouth of a doorway._

_“You oughta keep this little guy on a leash, Fitzgerald.” The tin voice echoed above him as the young boy cheerfully reached for his father. Look Daddy, he was so high up! “I found em in Parts and Service—he coulda gotten hurt in there!”_

_And his dad’s voice, warm and tried but fond. “Ah, I’m sorry, I was hoping he would just sleep through the night like he used to, but clearly that was a pipe dream._

_I wish we could afford a babysitter.”_

_“Well, for now, you got some pretty great ones right here. I’ll look out for him, Fitzy. It’s nice to be around kids again, to be honest.”_

_“With any luck, I’ll be able to do that job as well as you all. Thank you, Bonnie.”_

_His father and the monster talked, and Danny blissfully went back to his coloring._

_When he was little, the world was big…and full of wonder._

* * *

Danny Fitzgerald screamed and toppled backwards over the log he’d just clambered over.

The shadow shape followed him, its foggy legs moving but it was clear it didn’t need feet to walk. The massive head lolled to one side, like only a string kept it together. And its tall ears were moving with it fluidly, like they weren’t really working but just sitting for show. It was the smile that did Danny in, its big square teeth following Danny like its wide pair of eyes. The eyes and mouth were not black like the body it carried, but gleaming and wide like pearls or pools. ‘Pools’ was a better example, because they moved and rippled like a bad reception on his aunt’s old television.

Danny whimpered and skittered back on his butt, hands digging into damp earth and leaf litter.

Like the rest of the animatronics, it made no sound when it moved over the forest floor. Danny didn’t know why he was surprised, but it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Afraid he was going to run into a tree back first and corner himself, Danny twisted his spine to look over his shoulder, frantic. In the time it took to do this, the Shadow Bonnie vanished.

This wasn’t as comforting as it should have been, because now all Danny could think of was he had no idea which way the black creature had gone. And he wanted to make sure he bolted the opposite way, even if it meant getting further lost.

He had dropped the walke-talkie somewhere, and it was impossible to find in the growing night.

With the lightest of noises—almost a _giggle_ —Shadow Bonnie returned with a horrid sound of nothing. One minute it wasn’t there, and the next it was, blotting out everything behind it like an ink stain. There was no theatrics and movie soundtrack like the lame horror movies he and his friends went to see. This was reality and reality apparently didn’t feel the need to announce itself. That probably made things easier to sneak up and murder, if Shadow Bonnie was so inclined.

The teen was out of breath, and his chest heaved as he clumsily pulled himself to his feet using a nearby trunk. Holding on to it with white knuckled fingers, Danny waited until the icy fingers on his chest loosened and he could breathe without feeling every rib expand with each panicked breath.

“B-Bon—“ His voice was choked out like the stars above him. No, yelling might just draw more undesirables to him rather than get Nightmare Bonnie or Freddy to his side in time. Freddy, at least, wouldn’t hurt him because of Mike. But Nightmare Chica was still out here somewhere and that really would decrease his chances of survival.

With nowhere to run, and no way to use his voice, the crushing realization settled in. He was _lost_ out here, with at least two different entities, Nightmare Chica and the Shadow Bonnie. Both he was sure were out to get him, though only Shadow Bonnie liked playing with his food apparently. He couldn’t see the restaurant, he didn’t know where Nightmare Bonnie or Freddy was, and he had no means of contacting anyone else who might help.

“ _Bonnie_.”

There are some moments where you must stand straight and carry on. For Danny, this was not one of those moments. He turned his face into the bark of the old tree and let a heavy shiver wrack his entire frame. A chilly wind tickled the back of his neck, sticking its frozen fingers down his jacket and reminding him it was October, and the nights were getting cold. Was it Shadow Bonnie, with his too wide grin grabbing him!? He stiffened and twisted but, no, the black creature was still standing with three feet between them. Too close to make a break for it and too far to feel comfortable, Danny’s mind decided. He dug his own fingernails into the aged lines and just shook his head.

“You said you’d look out for me.” Danny whispered without really thinking. And he certainly didn’t expect an answer, but that was what he got.

“…anny?!” Far behind him, a voice was calling. It was light and familiar, and thankfully there wasn’t heavy wind, so the voice carried as well as it could through trees and distance. When Danny craned his ears and tried listening, he heard it better.

“Daaannny!!” There it was again. As he heard this voice, Shadow Bonnie had vanished again and didn’t show up near him. This time Danny whipped his head in the direction of the call.

“Mike?!” He forgot himself for a moment, but when he called again it was a little more frantic. “M-Mr. Schmidt!”

“ _Daaannnny_!” it sounded a little quieter, like perhaps the night guard was walking in another direction.

Left with no choice, and suddenly not willing to just _stay here and die_ by Nightmare or Shadow, young Fitzgerald pushed off from the bark and bolted. He scrambled over the log, shoved through underbrush and weaved around trees and brush, trying to figure out which was out. Branches scrapped and tugged at his arms and he felt one tear through his jacket, but he didn’t feel the sting until he was several paces away. If the creepy Shadow Bonnie form was following right behind him, Danny couldn’t hear it. This was somehow scarier than if he could hear it doing so, because it meant he would have to look over his shoulder to find out. Whatever courage was pushing him toward his boss’ voice was not going to allow him use of his neck though, because instead of looking back into the gloom of the thin trees he just kept moving. His mother had taught him about stars and directions when he was a kid, but that was no use to him now, because the tree canopy was thick and black. The clouds were also covering the ever-darkening night sky, but he didn’t find that out until just the second he saw a familiar clearing.

“Daaaannnny!!” It was louder this time! He _was_ going in the right direction! Spurred on by the sheer exhilaration of possibly making it and living, Danny gathered the rest of his strength and shoved in a straight line, leaf litter scattering as he stumbled into the cold, open night air. The ground crunched under his sneakers, like old bones tip tapping against one another, and the wind whistled above him. By the time he stopped his staggered run, the ground made no sound but was in fact tarmac once more. The back parking lot stretched before him innocently.

Before him, quite a ways back where it always sat, was the little restaurant at the top of the slope. Instead of one window however, now all the windows and the back door was aglow with yellow light, as if Mike had turned on every switch in the joint.

And then, as if this were a normal every day occurrence, all the lights flickered and died. The Prize Room light illuminated again, and the back door was letting out some light but not enough to warrant what it had been doing seconds earlier.

Danny stared, and tried to find an answer for this. He couldn’t, so he stopped trying to.

Danny jumped and looked to his left and right as Nightmare Bonnie and Fazbear suddenly joined him. Freddy had a sullen and chided-looking Nightmare Chica by one arm that was twisted behind her. Briefly, Danny entertained the thought that Freddy must have threatened to remove a limb if she didn’t behave. Or it might have been because Freddy could also go Nightmare mode too and that it was easy to bully the chicken into submission. Whatever Freddy’s technique, it worked and the two animatronics started toward the restaurant without so much as a glance in Danny’s direction. The human felt Nightmare Bonnie wandered toward him, and he felt a little safer immediately.

Nightmare Bonnie whirred an affectionate croon from his left, and the teen turned to look up at him.

“I thought…” Danny turned fearful eyes behind them, into the depths of the woods. There was nothing, and it looked incredibly convincing that there had always _been_ nothing.

And, come to think of it, either Mike had run back inside—and incredible distance to cover in the seconds between Danny hearing him and bursting through the last clump of brush—or he had never been out there at all. Not only that, for _every single light to go out_ that would have been the generator’s fault, and it wasn’t because even back here Danny could hear the ancient thing. In some meager last ditch attempt to cling to reason, Danny asked his friend with a meek, desperate voice.

“You weren’t the one calling me, were you?”

Nightmare Bonnie cocked his head, ears bobbing, and blinked once at him in confusion. It was very clear to Danny that no, the Nightmare bunny had not in fact done anything of the sort. Feeling a sudden chill sweep over him that was not the wind’s fault, Danny hugged his arms to his chest and motioned toward the restaurant.

“…let’s, let’s just go back inside.” Maybe if he asked nicely, the real Chica would make him some of the hot chocolate she gave Mike all the time.

The blueberry bunny clicked at him and followed obediently.

Later, after everything was said and done, Danny would eventually think to reflect on the strangest phenomenon of it all. Not so much that he was seeing Shadow rabbits that grinned, or heard someone calling his name that wasn’t there at all, but that his first instinct was that the pizzeria was the safest place to be after nearly being scared half out of his wits.

And if he ever told his mother—doubtful, since she thought that tonight he was at his friend’s house—but if he did? Then the woman would shake her head and say, with a tired smile, that he was turning into his father more and more every day.

* * *

There was no appearance of Nightmare, either by dream or Door.

In fact, Mike spent most of the time like he used to his first week here. Doing nothing more than his office, computer on his lap, glancing wearily at the cameras. There were a couple differences, the major one being that all the cameras were now peering at door frames with their round eyes. Oh, and also the fact he felt relief and affection when he saw the animatronics patrolling the halls and rooms, instead of ingrained terror.

Bonnie had just stuck one red glass optic in the Left hall’s blind spot camera, Camera 2B, and caused the night guard to jump a little. Mike snorted in amusement when he realized who it was and leaned back in his chair as he heard the rabbit’s uneven footfalls get closer.

“Very funny, Bugs.” Mike said.

“Scared ya, didn’t I?” Bonnie asked with a grin of his acrylic teeth.

“Almost.” Mike hummed, going back to check on the kitchen as Bonnie ambled on his way.

There was one more major difference, and he sighed when he heard another growl under his desk.

“Look, if you can’t get comfortable maybe you should try somewhere else—“

Nightmare Foxy lunged his muzzle out and snapped the air. It was a very strongly gestured ‘no’ and Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He nearly would have taken a hunk out of Mike’s leg—if that’s where he had been aiming. After the first few ‘attacks’ Mike swiftly realized Nightmare Foxy was not all like his Real World counterpart. Foxy the pirate would bolt at breakneck speed down a hall and attempt to skewer the first thing his hook found. And if that didn’t work, he’d bang on the door and exhaust the power supply so someone else had a chance. Mike’s friend was brave, sharp and incredibly thoughtful after years of being locked away by himself.

While Nightmare Foxy was, for lack of a better term, a wimp.

It was all show and noise but if you didn’t run off screaming like it wanted you too, then Nightmare Foxy got nervous and would hole up tighter in the darkness.

Mike sighed in mild frustration and just moved his chair back, thinking maybe that might work. He could just see the long ragged tail, stained and missing chunks of thick fur under the darkness of his desk. Above it sat the still closed Present box with the puppet’s broken remains. Mike squinted at it and waited, as if he were hoping for a miracle. Nothing, of course, happened. Mari wasn’t coming back. At least not like how Mike was hoping for. The night guard’s fingers drummed the arm rest as he thought. He decided that if he had to live with Marion talking vicariously through Nightmare Foxy, then he would just have to settle for that. As for what would happen to the Nightmare fox when they finally stopped Nightmare and freed Art, and with said fox being now Mike’s only connection to his friend…well that just would be a bridge to burn when they got to it.

Mike had about a hundred questions he wanted to ask Nightmare Foxy, but between keeping watch for Nightmare and the monster fox’s sour attitude Mike hadn’t gotten around to it. The closest he had gotten to being regarded as something Nice by the suspicious Nightmare was letting him hide up under Mike’s desk, and the night guard didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t fit. Even now, as he tried to think of a way to draw the puppet back out so he could hear its voice again, Mike’s thoughts were interrupted by the pounding of metal.

Mike turned his head calmly and watched as Foxy skidded to a halt by the left door.

“Faz and the others be returning, lad! With Nightmare Chica in tow, though she look mighty ruffled.” Foxy said. “And the day guard be white as a sail, wonder if she took a snap or two attim.”

“I hope not.” Mike said, standing up and setting the tablet on the chair. Little paws loosened their grip on his shoulder and Plushtrap followed the tablet down. “If you see Nightmare, send the mini Freddies to come get us, okay Trap?”

The small yellow bunny looked up at Mike, nodded and then went back to jabbing the screen happily with a stout paw. Underneath the worn cot, Mike heard the scuttle of the small Fredlets, giving smug looks at the tangled up Nightmare Foxy.

Leaving Plushtrap playing night guard, Mike and Foxy headed for the back door.

“Get in there, move it!” Mike heard Freddy bark. He assumed that tone was for Nightmare Chica, and he was right. The door slammed behind Danny, with Nightmare Bonnie standing guard in front of him. The bunny was watching Nightmare Chica, but didn’t step in to defend her from Freddy at all.

“Sooo, how it’d go?” Mike asked, wondering if this was a loaded question or not. At first glance everyone seemed fine. Even Nightmare Chica, who looked sour and pissed but _was_ in one piece, looked fine. She was, however, kept under Freddy’s firm and watchful glare.

“Fine. Lost this one for a minute.” Freddy jerked a thumb at the day guard without looking at him. And said day guard smiled sheepishly but looked too scared about something to verbally retaliate.

“Are you alright?” Mike addressed Danny, noting the color of the kid’s face and the tremble of his limbs. He was either scared or out of breath, or possibly both. Mike knew the feeling.

“Fine—fine, I’m fine.” Danny said, taking several deep breaths.

“If you want to go home, Danny, you’re more than welcome—“ Mike started to say, but was cut off sharply.

“No!” Everyone stared at the kid, who usually treated freedom from his job as a gift from the Gods. Even Bonnie, the normal one, shot him a strange look. Danny seemed to become acutely aware of all eyes on him and softened his tone, trying to act natural.

“No…I think, I’m just going to, uh, get a drink from the kitchen if that’s cool…”

“Sure, go right ahead.”

Mike watched the kid inch past Nightmare Bonnie and head down the West hall where he would cross the Dining Hall to get to the somewhat repaired kitchen. Bonnie followed Danny without a word, and Mike instantly felt better, because now Danny wasn’t alone and Bonnie wouldn’t let anything happen to the kid. Nightmare Bonnie looked between Danny and Nightmare Chica before going after the teen too, which was something Mike barely caught. The glare from the monster chicken’s one optic wasn’t so much livid as it was insulted and rather wounded. That gave Mike an idea.

“Nightmare Bonnie, wait!” Mike said. Freddy made a noise, because Nightmare Bonnie turned and gave the man a questioning growl. ‘Happy noises’ were reserved for Danny only it seemed, but after an hour with Nightmare Foxy’s racket, Mike didn’t so much as flinch.

“ _Please_ stay here with Chica.” He pointed to the Nightmare one, deciding to ask nicely before Freddy got involved. He would rather talk the bunny into it, then force him and ruin any chance at the chicken and rabbit ruining their relationship.

“You know, she probably feels lonely here all by herself.” Mike said when Nightmare Bonnie just stared at him. But it looked like his words were getting through, because the blueberry colored creature glanced at Nightmare Chica, who looked away and hissed through her beak. Whatever it was, it didn’t insult Nightmare Bonnie. He gurgled back and seemed surprised when Nightmare Chica glared hotly at him once more, before rolling her head away.

“See?” Mike said softly, noting the exchange. “And if Nightmare comes back, he might go after her for coming out here. _Especially_ if she’s alone.”

Well, that did it.

Nightmare Bonnie looked down the hall where the teen and his original self went. And for one long moment, he was silent and thoughtful. Finally, he started walking toward Nightmare Chica, who seemed to be trying her best to not look hopeful and give anything away.

“Danny will be just fine.” Mike assured in the same calm tone. “But there’s safety in numbers right now, Nightmare Bonnie.”

The rabbit chomped his big teeth at Mike, which seemed to be friendlier than it actually looked, and closed the distance to Nightmare Chica. The bunny pointed down the hall, speaking to her in their strange robotic clicks and garbles. Freddy, Foxy and Mike watched, with two looks of shock and one of smug satisfaction. He loved it when a plan came together.

“How did ye know that would work, lad?” Foxy grumbled in his ear. Mike smiled, dropped his hands from his hips and headed back to the guard room.

“Looks can be deceiving, Foxy. And I don’t think the Nightmares are so far off from their original counterparts. Bon and Chica always work as a team out here; I was hoping they did the same in Arthur’s world.” Mike said.

“Oh, they did. Guess some things can’t be unprogrammed.” Freddy said, confirming Mike’s hypothesis. At the night guard’s startled and confused look, Freddy sighed.

“Remember son, what I can do and what I have done.” The bear reminded calmly but with a look that suggested he didn’t want to go too much into detail.

Mike tilted his head in thought, remembering the fact that Freddy could go Nightmare. Following the bear’s slightly cryptic statement, then that meant this wasn’t the first time Freddy had done this. It was strange, they hadn’t seen another Nightmare version of him come to think of it. Well, not counting the little Fredlets.

“No offense big guy, but on the one hand, not having another Nightmare to take care of is a big relief.” Mike tasted the words slowly and then looked up at his best friend. “But on the other…how come there wasn’t another one of you?”

“Aye, wondered that meself.” Foxy drawled, pushing his jaw shut with his hook like he did when he was thinking something over. “Round the time the little lad got that bite, ya woulda been workin in the oldest ship.”

“The diner?” Mike asked.

“Aye. They finished us lot in a certain order, ye see. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and then meself. I was maybe a month old when the first bite happened.”

“The _first_ bite?” But Freddy was speaking over Mike.

“I was only needed at night.” Said Freddy, which caught Mike off guard. He even stopped walking and turned to look at Freddy.

“ _Who_ needed you though? Freddy?” Mike paused, almost taking a step back when a thought struck him, heavy and hard. Unease settled in his gut like a stone. “Let me guess. It was Nightmare.”

Foxy looked at Mike as if he’d insulted the fox and not the big bear. “Mike! Faz would never—“

“It was.” Freddy said in that deep tone, but he wouldn’t look Mike in the eye. “’Bout five or six long nights, like some damn curse. I turned into onna those Nightmares, I had a hand in Nightmare’s twisted little game and we all tried our best to get the young Arthur. I was under the bed. On the seventh, he retired us all, and tried to go it alone.

The Marionette came that night, and with him Fredbear.”

Mike’s breath hitched. “Nightmare was _controlling_ you? Like King—“

“Like King.” Freddy moved on from that topic swiftly and went back to his story. “Course, at the time, and with the way the puppet looked, I didn’t recognize him. And rightly so, he looked nothing like the Prize Counter animatronic that I knew during the day. Nightmare thought he was there to help, and in some way, I suppose he was. Not Nightmare, though. Heh, sure as sugar the puppet caught Arthur, and before Nightmare could get him stole the little thing right out from under us all.”

“He must have used Arthur’s powers, maybe.” Mike mused to himself. Magic was not science but sometimes Mike felt better if he treated it as such. Freddy nodded and went on.

“I woke up the next morning, in my spot and looking how I always did. Suppose the puppet saved me too, or maybe it was Fredbear. After the accident, Fredbear was removed of his endoskeleton and was left as a suit in the back room. Spring Bonnie would follow in the next week, and then they’d put us three on stage.”

“And the puppet?”

“Right back where it belonged. Working the Prize Counter, except now there was new paint on it, those purple lines on its mask…and its optics a’course. It’s optics were different, and ya could tell that it just… _saw more_. Saw more than it used to and was more _alive_.”

“This was before the other murders, wasn’t it? You were…less you.” Mike hedged.

Freddy shot a surprised look at Mike which quickly turned fond. “I was still me, son. But yer right in some ways, I sure didn’t have as much personality as I do now. It was a heckuva’lot easier ta control me, I’m sure.”

Mike nodded. “Thank you for telling me, Freddy. I understand now, and…Listen I, I’m gunna get back to the cameras. If Nightmare tries to get out tonight...”

“We’ll be ready for him.” Freddy growled, and it was less of a threat and more a promise. Mike felt a little better at this statement and left the bear and fox to themselves.

When Mike was gone and they were back patrolling, Foxy spoke up.

“One thing, mate. That the lad didn’t ask that _I’m_ going to.”

“Fire away, Foxy.”

“…if Nightmare controlled ye before, Faz…why not this time? Ye showed up and saved our hides last night.” Foxy pointed out with a jab of his hook. “Ye weren’t workin fer that scallywag.”

“Because, Foxy.” Freddy glanced up at the camera, thinking of the young man sitting behind it, watching diligently over his beloved restaurant.

“I found someone I cared for more, far than I feared Nightmare.”

* * *

As he promised, Detective Wilde showed up the following mid afternoon. Mike had gotten no sleep, and was on his fifth cup of coffee—against Freddy’s wishes—when he saw a big unmarked vehicle amble slowly around the bend and up toward the parking lot. At first, Mike didn’t recognize who it was, considering last time Detective Wilde had visited he had been in a squad car.

“Freddyyy…” Mike spoke slowly, starting to tense up.

“Prolly the copper, son.” Freddy reminded, to which Mike instantly relaxed.

“Oh yeah. I forgot he was coming—with Spring! That’s right!”

Freddy didn’t look as happy as Mike did, but he still followed the night guard out the door and into the crisp fall air. The Detective was just getting out of the big SUV type thing, slamming the door as he walked over to the side Mike was. He didn’t notice Freddy, because Freddy had smartly positioned himself at the back of the vehicle. Mike shot him a little look, but Freddy kept up an innocent façade Mike didn’t quite buy. He didn’t have time to introduce the two—or warn Wilde, for that matter—because the older man immediately started speaking.

“I bring you two things.” Detective Wilde held up his fingers. “One, we discovered concrete proof the fire started from a point in the building…that was _nowhere_ close to your position on the cameras. The footage was grainy as all hell, let me tell you. Time stamps were clear though. And to be honest Schmidt? I don’t think you started that fire and neither does my boss, especially after I showed him that.”

“What…does that means what I _hope_ it means?” Mike asked eagerly.

 “You’re off the hook, Schmidt.” Detective Wilde clarified with a nod of his head.

Mike was so relieved he felt lightheaded. Sure, he knew, and Freddy and the others knew he was innocent but sometimes the wrong man was put in custody and sometimes the bad guy got away. That could have happened here, but it hadn’t. And Heaven knows it _had_ happened here, more than once. For once history hadn’t repeated itself, and despite what still remained lurking in the shadows Mike felt something close to hope that this nightmare would end better than it started. His grin felt real for the first time in days.

“That’s…that’s a real fucking weight off my shoulders.” He moaned, actually slumping a little more than usual as Wilde walked around the vehicle he just parked.

“There wasn’t much to ID in the rabbit but—“ It was then of course, he spotted Freddy, who was just standing there staring. “But…”

“Uh, this is Freddy.” Mike gestured, feeling awkward and suddenly small in comparison. Freddy was a mechanical wonder, after all. And tall to boot.

“You’ve met.” Mike said delicately. He wasn’t sure who he was reminding, Detective Wilde or Fazbear.

“Uh. Right. Hi, Freddy.” Detective Wilde said, before going back to Mike and trying to regain normalcy in his tone. Because he had brought good news to them, Mike had a feeling Freddy wouldn’t be out for blood on Detective Wilde. He was right of course, Freddy simply nodded in that country way he was programmed to act, but left the detective alone. Another relief.

“As I was saying, we did our best with the corpse. A mister William Afton—owned a few business but they’ve all gone under so that’s cleared up—was IDed via some dental records.”

“William Afton?” Mike said slowly, tasting the name. “I guess it’s nice to have a name to a face—loosely speaking but it doesn’t change anything. He’s dead.”

“No, it doesn’t. It gives parents a name, though. Those missing kids we found a while ago…” Detective Wilde scowled and just pulled out his keys. “Guy was one sick fuck.”

Mike could only nod, because to him that didn’t describe him accurately enough. It was too kind. Every loving and friendly nerve turned a blind eye to Afton and Mike hated the man with a rage that almost felt inhumane. He was more evil than that, more vile and rotten. The destruction Afton had left in his wake had left deep scars on his friends, the children they adored, and the business and Mike’s own job title. For Afton to just be dead and gone seemed too easy, but Gold had destroyed the spirit while Spring had destroyed the body.

There really was nothing left, Mike realized dimly. In the end, the two robots who started it all had ended it all, too. He was proud of them, but he could only ever tell Gold that, probably.

“Well, here it is.” Detective Wilde and Mike stood before the open Honda CVR. “Was so damn big we had to bring it in one of these monsters. And come to think of it, it looks like a monster itself.”

“Yeah, well…looks can be deceiving.” Mike muttered, thinking back to Mari’s words from a day ago. Mike took a breath and motioned Freddy over from where he stood stoic, as if to prevent something from getting out…or getting in. The bear crossed the pavement, while Bonnie and Chica pushed open the two big glass doors of the front of pizzeria.

Detective Wilde noticed the other animatronics, in the way a man notices when he’s been cornered by a band of wolves. And Mike was inwardly glad he left Foxy guarding the Prize Room’s locked and closed door. He was also glad Danny was distracting Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Chica, who begrudgingly accepted the teen but mostly ignored him.

“They…weren’t doing that when I was here last time.” Detective Wilde said, with the calm tone of a man who was wondering what time the Titanic was going to split apart and sink.

“Last time, it was just you. There wasn’t any need.” Mike commented grimly, not even looking at the Detective as he watched Freddy haul the rotted rabbit up. Springtrap’s ears were the only lose thing, every other bit of his charred body was stiff and locked in place. Or stuck, maybe.

“You _sure_ you want this thing?”

“His name is Springtrap. And he’s _not_ a thing.” Mike caught himself, and shot Wilde an apologetic look. “I—sorry. He is but he’s also, he’s a member of the Fazgang, he used to be a big piece of the company, you know?”

Freddy was silent, but shot him a small look as he made his way back into the mouth of the restaurant. Springtrap was taller, but between his rotted body and gunky exterior he was lighter from age, and Freddy was the strongest animatronic save for maybe Gold.

“I can’t begin to thank you for letting us have him back—“ But Detective Wilde cut Mike off with a shake of his head.

“No need. The station all but threw it— _him_ —back at me. Gave everybody the creeps. They wouldn’t even clean it, said that if you cared so much they’d let you have the honors of getting that filthy bastard out.”

“I plan to.” Mike said, knowing he meant the killer’s corpse. That probably wasn’t even sort of correct protocol but to be honest, the station that let a man kill children for a few decades most likely had worse things going on than some poor hygiene decisions. Mike kept that thought firmly tucked away, but he still felt Gold’s heavy wuff of amusement between his ears.

“And I’m glad to finally close those cold cases. I sometimes wonder if we missed any…if any of his victims are still missing.” Wilde looked away, but Mike saw he was troubled and clearly didn’t see much victory in this end. Mike felt a rush of affection for the man, understanding how it felt to solve something that plagued you so badly you could almost reach out and touch it…but to know that even your best would never be satisfying as you hoped. That sometimes your best was still subpar.

“I…I don’t know.” Mike hadn’t thought about that, but it was a good question. _Was_ there someone out there, missing a child who had lost them to the monster that was stuck inside Springtrap? If he got Springtrap back online, would he be able to point Mike in the right direction so the night guard could put more souls at peace? It was a hopeful thought, even though he knew at this moment Springtrap was being put in the basement of Parts and Services, where Mike promised Freddy he would remain.

In any case, Mike would not have a free minute to do more than think until this whole debacle with Nightmare was settled. Even now, Mike felt the itch to get back into the building and close and lock the doors. The only thing worse than two corpses going in was Nightmare getting out. Secretly, though he knew Gold heard his thought, Mike wished it was just another murderer he had to face, because at least against a flesh and blood killer he could win a few rounds. Nightmare was a whole other problem all by himself. Worryingly, Mike thought he heard gold dimly agree with him.

“Thank you, Detective Wilde. I need to get back inside but, thank you. Really.”

“Of course. If you need anything else, just drop a line at the station, Schmidt.” Detective Wilde nodded, heading back to the front of the vehicle. “And thank you for your help, good luck with this restaurant. For all the bad it’s got left…there was a time this place and these robots were loved, I suppose.”

“You’re right.” Mike agreed. “And I’m going to get us back there, if I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a hint to an obvious statement and then a not so obvious one. After all, two new rabbits are in this chapter, and I do not mean the Bonnie models that hang out with Danny. Remember which game we first see Shadow Bonnie, and where we see him and think. And I’ll see you next time.


	18. A Nightmare Waits for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * The Puppet's Grave Mistake  
> *See it through to the end, Danny.  
> *so have your fun, when life is done, a nightmare waits for you...

**ACT III  
Chapter 18. A Nightmare Waits for You**

* * *

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eye shut and leaned his elbows on his desk further.

Nothing. For three days, just a whole lot of _nothing_. Mike couldn’t be sure when this whole Nightmare fiasco started but he had a feeling it was the seventh or the eighth day. A whole week of varying levels of terror and near-death experiences…and Mike didn’t think his nerves could take much more.

The night guard breathed a shaky, long exhale and reached for his coffee. His hand paused over the tablet but he passed it, unable to keep watch any longer. Let the damn chips fall where they may in a pile of his life. It was all starting to look useless. Nightmare was going to try something that was the only thing they knew for sure. And when it did they just had to be ready for all possible outcomes, no matter how grisly. People die, toys you love get broken beyond repair and at the end of the day, do we all _really_ know what we are capable of?

He just had to be on his guard.

 _‘Easier said than done.’_ Mike thought grimly as he downed the last dregs. He felt more than heard the front doors open, but none of the robots reacted and he knew Freddy was somewhere in the Dining Hall and would have raised a hell of a lot of noise if anything had gone South. Probably only Danny then, who Mike had been able to talk into going home for some sleep but hadn’t been able to stop him from coming back at midnight. Inwardly, Mike admired the kid’s sudden stubbornness to see this through to the end, and he would be lying if he didn’t appreciate some extra help. It was…weird, the way Danny now treated his job.

When Mike had hired him, he hadn’t really expected the kid to last more than a few days. Between his clear fear of the robots and his absent, almost scattered mannerisms—like he had lost something and was constantly looking for it—Mike feared either Danny would quit or Freddy would fire him. Or worse, the kid would end up getting himself hurt and they’d have lost a good kid and be facing a lawsuit. And, sure, Freddy didn’t really have that power on paper but Mike let him make calls because Freddy saw people as they _were_ , and not so much as they had the potential to be like Mike did. He tried to see the good in everybody, because deep down it had to be there somewhere, didn’t it?

 _‘What about the murderer, that Afton guy? What about Arthur’s brother?’_ A treacherous voice that wasn’t quite Gold and wasn’t quite Mike asked snidely in the back of his head.

‘ _What about Nightmare, who is turning out to just be the deeper, darker side that poor, tortured little Crying Child?’_

“What about _me_?” Mike murmured in retaliation to his own thoughts. “What about Freddy for that matter?” He quickly dropped the thoughts racing around his head, because they were only chasing each other’s tails like dogs. He stood to go refill his drink. Unfortunately, this required him to walk through rooms, which meant he crossed a threshold. Nothing of great important happened until he was on his way back. As he walked back into his office, he noticed something strange.

There was a bottle of pills on his desk.

Mike halted and stared at it, in a calculated manner a hunter might look at a sleeping bobcat. It wasn’t hurting anybody, but my God did it have the darkest of potentials to fuck up his entire life right now.

“…uh.” Mike looked around, did a double check of everything. Plushtrap and the Fredlets were off somewhere exploring, probably pestering Chica in the kitchen. So that was one lifeline gone. Nightmare Foxy watched him balefully from under his desk, optics set on low as the two observed each other. Without thinking, Mike pointed.

“Did you do this?”

The confused grunt informed Mike that, no, Nightmare Foxy had not done this. That or he was a method liar, but Gold didn’t seem to think it was him either.

Remembering the IV stand, Mike set down his coffee and calmly reached out for the bottle.

His fingers just connected with it when the world around him wobbled and sucked inward. Mike squeezed his blue eyes shut and didn’t even breathe until he felt the ground beneath him stop rocking. When he did finally exhale, it was a dry gasp.

“ _Michael_.”

The night guard jerked to life, becoming distinctly aware of the tired beep of a heart monitor nearby. This time, the hospital room had less flowers, seemed a little darker despite every light being on and Nightmare Foxy was nowhere to be seen. The chair was even missing. Mike suspected it was because the fox was out in the Real World hiding under his desk but he couldn’t be sure. His gaze fell on the lean shadow leaning over Arthur’s bed.

 _“You look frightened. Are you surprised to see me like this?”_ The Nightmare form of the Marionette asked him, and Mike answered with a faint shiver.

“It’s just…bigger, that’s all. You’re normally a little guy, not…” Mike swallowed. “Not taller than me with all those…teeth.”

 _“I can’t very well use my original body.”_ Mari reminded, but soon changed the subject. _“Michael, I brought you here for a reason. I had no strength to possess Nightmare Foxy and it made me realize how final this all is.”_

“Mari, please don’t—“

 _“I want you to bury my body.”_ Mari said calmly, as if he were asking for help on a gym leader in Pokemon. And not for something as strange and surreal as Mike holding a burial for the remains of a once haunted puppet. For a second, Mike couldn’t even find his voice let alone use it, and when he did he tried to ignore the way it cracked.

“Bury you? W-why do—Mari, I can’t do that. Please don’t ask me to do that.” Mike said, feeling his vision blur. The puppet waited with aggravating patience. Finally, Mike spoke something different, but his voice remained weak and accepting.

“Why do…why do you want me to? At least give me that.” Mike asked, almost pleadingly.

 _“Arthur’s body was buried, but his soul never was. If you bury my body and then free him from Nightmare’s hold, he will have nowhere to go but Up.”_ The puppet said.

“…Up?” Mike said delicately. Seeing the human’s confusion, the puppet rephrased itself in a polite tone.

_“I think humans call it ‘Moving On.’”_

“Uh, I mean that’s close enough.” Mike bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. “That’s the _only_ way? There isn’t some other—you really don’t think that Arthur’s magic or whatever can fix your original model? Not even a chance?”

Mike would take whatever measly shred of hope they had left between them.

_“No, I do not.”_

But Mike was the only one.

The night guard glanced at the child lying wrapped up in the hospital bed and tried for a different direction.

“But Arthur’s still _here_! He’s lying right between us, Mari, he’s been here this whole time! Why aren’t you—“ Mike fell silent as he watched the puppet’s long stripped fingers—three of them each a foot in length and seemingly boneless—move fluidly toward the white gauze wrapped shape of what Mike assumed to be Arthur’s head. When they settled on the curvature of Arthur’s head, they curled downward like spider legs. Come to think of it, the last time Mike had been here, at least _some_ of Arthur’s face had been exposed for his oxygen mask and the tubing that went down his throat.

Now, Mike noticed with a cold dread, the kid’s _entire head_ was wrapped. Like a mummy. Black and white fingers arched around the head further and pushed. Mike wanted to reach out and stop the puppet from whatever it was he intended on doing, but found he couldn’t move or speak at all. He could only watch on in helpless horror, and he wasn’t sure why.

Mike bite his tongue to keep from screaming as the globe shape of what he had assumed was bone and brain and flesh caved in like a paper mache project. There was no blood or ooze or anything of that sort, it was simply firmly shaped like a small child’s head and then after the Marionette was done with it, it was nothing more than a crumpled, indented mess of gauze and tape.

A second later the blanket covering up to the child’s shoulder deflated silently and laid on the bed in gentle wrinkles.

The puppet had been looming over nothing at all.

Mike shut his eyes, but the hollow remains of the crying child remained burning behind his eyelids, and he heard the puppet’s voice far off and growing distant by the second.

_“There is no child here anymore. You can shut your eyes, night guard. For all the good it will do._

_Your mind still sees.”_

Mike sucked in a deep breath and felt a wall behind him. He grabbed it blindly, and accidentally fell against the switches for the Left hall door. The light flickered on behind him but he paid no notice, and then the sheet that was the door slammed shut and that Mike did notice—and he jumped too, looking around desperately.

Nightmare Foxy croaked at him in confusion from under his desk, but did little else.

“Nothing…” The night guard breathed shakily, turning to look at the large gift box sitting silently on the cot at the back of his office. “It was nothing.”

Nothing. Like what was in Arthur’s hospital bed. Like what was in the present box.

The present box was sitting there its own little cheerful mausoleum, and Mike didn’t understand why he had to disturb the resting place of his best friend for some tomb under rocks and dirt. It seemed cruel to bury the puppet in dirt and god knows what else.

Faintly, and in as gentle a voice as Mike has ever heard the bear, Gold responded to him. It was a careful reminder that this wasn’t about him, or Gold or even Mari now.

It was about Arthur, and taking care of that poor little kid once and for all.

“I can’t.” Mike breathed out to Gold, even as he reached out for the box and hefted it up into his arms. He hugged it to his chest and shuddered, wishing Freddy was here. The puppet weighed more in death and that strange detail sent ice up Mike’s spine.

“I know I can’t—“

 _You **can**_ , Gold told him gently but firmly. **_We_** _can. And we will._

* * *

Sneaking out of the restaurant with all the bots on the prowl was easier than it should have been.

Mostly it was because Mike left Plushtrap watching the cameras. This meant the gang would see the red lights of the active cameras around the halls and rooms. As long as it didn’t go dark, and didn’t stay on one room for too long, or a long as Bonnie and Chica avoided looking into his office, Mike would be fine.

The plan was to take a shovel from the side shed where the gardening equipment was kept for the front shrubbery. Then it was just a matter of burying the puppet’s body behind the back lot and returning as quickly as humanly possible.

Wind whipped his messy hair from his forehead as Mike headed across the blacktop. The moon was in the sky, swollen and cold and unseeing. The night guard glanced at the forest stretching out before him, and remembered the way Danny had come back looking shaken as all get out. Mike Schmidt carried with him a strange sense of self-preservation, so while he might agree that the woods _did_ look a little dark, he couldn’t honestly say he was afraid of them. Nightmare was scarier, losing one of his friends was scarier, and the restaurant closing down was terrifying. If you were afraid of something more than the current thing, it was easy to be brave. Or stupid, maybe, was the term Mike felt was more appropriate.

As Mike got to work—and digging through the rocky soil wasn’t an easy task for someone like him—he mulled over what could have possibly happened out there in the tangled woods. It wasn’t Nightmare Chica who’d given the kid such a fright, because Freddy had said he’d found her pretty easy, and Danny was nowhere in sight when he did. Nightmare Chica hadn’t given a reason, and Nightmare Bonnie wasn’t acting out of the ordinary for him.

Something _else_ , then…

And the only thing Mike knew of that would scare Danny—to the point of running away like he had the time he’d collided with Bea—was the robots. Mike hefted a big rock out of his way, wiped sweat from his eyes and paused over the hole he’d dug. It was about three feet long by now and almost the same width wise. As he gently pulled out the remains of the puppet, Mike thought. Danny was only scared of animatronics. There was only three animatronics out there at the time. The night guard kneeled in the grave and frowned as he worked, starting with the body and ending with the two pieces of the puppet’s head and mask. The porcelain was ice cold and smooth as glass in his hands as he finished laying the body into the little grave. He started filling it in, grateful the mound would remind him where the puppet was buried, so he didn’t forget.

Over Mike’s shoulder there was a thing. It stood still, blocking out most of the restaurant and staying just far enough away that it wasn’t noticeable. It was a long-eared shadow with two round eyes and a curved string of square teeth.

After watching the night guard for a bit, the shadow rabbit turned its attention toward the now unguarded restaurant, and calmly ambled its way across the blacktop toward it.

* * *

“Look man, I dunno if this is such a brilliant idea.” Carl’s voice jostled Danny from his tired, almost vacant stare out the car’s front window.

“Right.” Danny said calmly, and he wasn’t really sure why he said it. Sam noticed it, and tried another tactic.

“We could just go back to my place man and finish the sleepover, my parent’s’ll never know we were gone. It’ll be great, look, Carl just put this thing in drive man—“

“That’s the thing, though.” Danny spoke, and their friend sounded a touch strange. Almost mechanical. “Parents _know_. When they’re kid is gone, parents _know_ it. Feel it, maybe. It’s always ‘ _parents should never bury their kids,_ ’ but that’s bullshit.”

“Adults know how to grieve, you know? So they’re prepared for it even if it’s hard. Kids don’t know anything.”

“Who’s talking about _burying_? Look, it’s late and you’re not even working today I thought. C’mon Danny.” This time it was with a hint of pleading, as if Sam and Carl had any fucking clue as to what lay in this tired building. As if these walls had done a lot more than talked over the years, so now anyone over the age of sixteen instinctively knew that to avoid _Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria_ when the sun went down was in their best chances for survival.

Danny knew the feeling, but he was curious as to when it had finally gotten quieter than the voice in the back of his head, the low one that was telling him to see things through to the end.

It was, strangely enough, reminiscent of something his dad used to tell him.

“Let’s just _go_ , dude.” Someone said, but Danny couldn’t have told you which of his friends was speaking now. It didn’t matter.

“No. I have to go.” he said. “Thanks for the ride, guys.”

By the time Danny was pulling open the door, ignoring the ‘Closed’ sign, his friend’s had driven away. He hung between the threshold there a moment in the cold night air, feeling the hairs on his arms and neck prickle and he looked up at the night sky that hung over the resturant. Something had changed, and even he could feel it.

Parents always knew.

And Danny decided to himself, not for the first time in this 24 hours period, that if he _did_ die tonight in this restaurant? Then at the very least he might get to see his Dad again.

When he got into the Dining Hall, Danny was aware of all the noise. The big sprawling room wasn’t full but Freddy, both Bonnies and Nightmare Chica and Foxy were there. Danny couldn’t see where BB, Nightmare Foxy or the real Chica were but he decided that would have to wait.

“ _Whaddya mean ya can’t find him?_ Blazes Bonnie, are those ears fer hearin’ or decroatin!?” Freddy was saying, and it was rather loud. Maybe Chica and the others were in the kitchen holding the plates so Freddy’s thundering voice didn’t crack any.

“Both, ta be honest.” Bon snorted, to Freddy’s displeasure.

“I ask ya ta keep an eye on’im and next thing I know that miniature rabbit is playin Night Guard!” Freddy shot back with an aggravated sweep of his paw. “Have ya at least heard him?”

“I have a layout of the restaurant and just recently Arthur’s Mind, Faz. For the last time, if he’s _Outside. The flippin. Building._ Then all my programming tells me is _There Be Dragons!”_ Bonnie said back irritably, and sounding more than a little accusatory.

Danny had never heard Bonnie and Freddy go at it like this, and the sheer strangeness of it drove him to Foxy’s side. In any given situation, Foxy was either calm, or calmly enraged. It had a strangely soothing effect, so that’s where Danny went for answers.

“Wha’s going on?” He asked, keeping his voice at a whisper as Freddy growled and demanded something else of Bonnie, who scowled and launched into another point.

“Eh? Didn’t expect you back so soon, lubber. Them two?” Foxy jabbed his hook at the two and gave an electronic sigh. “Oh, seems our lad’s run off again. Can’t sit still, can’t just sit around and wait. He never was good at that.” Foxy chuckled fondly.

“You…you don’t seem concerned.” Danny said.

“Course not. Mike can take care’a himself. Sure, wish I knew where he was, means a lot ta us all and we love ‘im right down to our motherboards, but he’s got Gold and no matter how far he goes, he always comes back.” Freddy gave Danny a squint with his one golden optic. “Listen to me lad. When you realize the world goes on with or without ya, ya come to a conclusion real quick. But that ain’t sumthin Faz ain’t learned quite yet, cause he hasn’t had to.”

Danny had a feeling they were no longer talking about losing Mike, but more about Freddy’s inability to accept certain situations. He wondered how Foxy was able to stay calm, and it made him look at the ragged, half torn down fox in a more awed and kinder light. Danny knew from Mike that pretty much with the exception of that creepy Springtrap and BB, the other four were the same age. Months apart, days in Freddy and Bonnie’s case. But sometimes Foxy seemed older, in spirit more than mind. Tired acceptance.

“And what’s that?” Danny asked.

“That story ‘bout that child who never grows up? Load of anchovies.” Foxy snapped, and Danny hide a smile.  
  
“Kids grow up, they learn and they grow and soon enough, they’re adults havin’ lil mateys of their own. Goodbyes that used to mean only until tomorrow change and so do the times whether yer there or not to see it.”

“Peter Pan, right?” Danny clarified, to Foxy’s careful nod, his jaw swinging loosely. It reminded Danny that with no Mike around no one was there to tighten it for him every few hours. No replacement ever worked, no screw was ever tight enough, without Mike Foxy’s jaw just hung from his muzzle and moved with every gesture like an open screen door in the wind. Sometime it even banged against Foxy’s metal chest like one.

Foxy suddenly motioned for Danny to follow him, and he did. Behind Danny, he heard the familiar _rowwk_ noise that meant Nightmare Bonnie was following them. Foxy probably noticed, but he didn’t comment on it, he just went on as the sounds of the argument got fainter behind them.

“Only one kid who never grew up, and it weren’t cause he flew off ta some magical island with fairies and Lost Boys and mermaids.” Foxy lectured calmly as he lurched into the office and moved aside to make room for Danny.

For a second, Danny didn’t understand.  What was the point of looking at an empty desk?

“And that kid still needs ta go ta bed, matey. Puppet knew it, I knew it….Mike now knows it.” Foxy growled softly near him, and Danny suddenly understood the importance of an empty desk.

No gift box.

“He, he took the puppet?” Danny asked weakly, taking strength as Nightmare Bonnie leaned round the corner and gurgled at him affectionately.

“Aye. Prolly ta them woods out back, ta bury the thing. Ye bury treasure, after all, even if it be in two pieces or tarnished. Still treasure.”

 Danny listened to the pirate fox and now understood his calmness. Foxy knew damn well just where the night guard had gone, and he really hadn’t gone _far_ technically. Hadn’t even taken his car, but that didn’t matter. And no doubt, Foxy agreed with Mike and that’s why he hadn’t ratted the night guard out yet. There was no way Freddy would let Mike do what he wanted to alone or even finish it, not with Nightmare skulking around in the shadows.

This was something Mike wanted to—or maybe _had_ to—do alone and Foxy was helping him by not saying a word.

Danny shivered, and realized that if he had spoken up earlier this might not have happened like this.

“Foxy, it’s not safe out there. I mean— _I know_ its Mike and all but when we were out getting Nightmare Chica I saw something.” The teen stumbled over his words, feeling frantic as the temperature seemed to just plummet several degrees.

“ _Did_ ye now?” Foxy asked slowly, inclining his great head at him. “Dangerous, was it?”

“I, I think so. I mean, I got the creepiest feeling from it. Sure it didn’t attack but, look; I want to go help Mike. Do you know where I can find a flashlight?” He wanted something that could be used as a weapon if things turned dire.

“Aye. The second storage closet, by the back Exit. Best scoot out that way now, while Faz and Bon are still having a row.” Foxy said, and Danny nodded and hurried off. He had to stop Nightmare Bonnie from following him, because he was afraid of Freddy noticing Nightmare Bonnie missing.

Foxy hung back, turning to fix his good eye at the dark hulking pile of what lurked under Schmidt’s desk.

“Listen ta me, boy.” Foxy murmured darkly. “There ever a time to start makin’ up fer the trouble you caused, fer the prank you pulled…time might be coming now.”

He left after that, returning to the Dining Hall before Freddy noticed he was suddenly missing. Because only one of the Foxy models would be missed.

Danny was in the far back of the closet when he heard a snicker behind him.

He turned, slowly, and his wide, terrified green eyes fell on the round white circles that sat above the string of glowing teeth. The black form mottled through the air and blotted out the doorway to the restaurant. In the time it would take for Danny to scream for help the spectral shape could close the distance in one lunge.

Shadow Bonnie tilted its head in a slow rotation and giggled a second time.

* * *

“Done.” Mike sat back tiredly and leaned back on the grass. A stone cut into his palm but Mike more or less used the pain to keep him grounded. He felt floaty now, as if this were all taking place in another world.

‘ _Sure it is, Schmidt._ ’ His mind rambled. ‘ _Sure, you’re gunna wake up in your studio apartment and have never answered that ad at all. You’ll still be at the grocery store; you’ll be staring about that diploma collecting dust on the wall and ignoring the phone when it rings because it might be a debt collector._

_Then you’ll pick up a terrible job at a restaurant as the night guard, and some guy will prank you on the phone. Except it won’t be a prank, will it Mikey? It will be terrible nonfiction, a horrible truth and you’ll slip up maybe on the last night and they’ll get you. Freddy Fazbear will get you, they’ll drag you and the next night someone else will sit in your place.”_

He forced his closed eyes open.

_And maybe the Marionette will pick that person, instead of picking you to be the Knight Guard, the man who looks after a business with a sick and twisted past, an unsteady future but some of the most amazing creatures you’ve ever known in your entire life.’_

Mike looked up at the sky, sitting in the dewy stiff grass in front of a little grave mound.

 _‘You’ll wake up.’_ He thought. _‘And this will all be a dream. And you’ll be alone again.’_

It wasn’t a dream, of course. And he wouldn’t wake up because he was awake, and Mike knew that. The same way he knew what burying the puppet—as insane as it sounded on paper—was the Right Thing to Do. He felt a chill in the air a second later, and it made Mike blink and really look at the sky he had been staring at. He noticed something was wrong.

The dark clouds that were originally innocently up in the sky were no longer up there.

For a second, Mike paused, staring blanking at the pretty scatter of stars that was no visible, wondering why the hairs on the back of his neck were pricking uneasily. Suddenly Gold reacted, more of a wave of unease and anticipation than real fear. Billows and piles of smog filtered past the trees from the back of the forest. In one great wave the pitch black fog swung in a smooth half circle, blocking Mike from the tarmac. And as he turned in that direction, the entire restaurant seemed to vanish. He kept his tight grip on the shovel, listening to the roaring laughter that permeated from behind him, among the trees.

In a few minutes the black fog was impossible to see through, he couldn’t even see the tree tops let alone the restaurant.

The ground shuddered as Nightmare started hauling himself from the strange fog, stepping between two trees like one steps through a door way.

Mike swore softly under his breath, and Nightmare must have seen the confusion that lay under his deer in the head lights look.

“DOORS ARE FORWEAK. LITTLE. _TOYS_.” Nightmare said, lolling his head back in a merrily jaunting gesture, though his glaring red pinprick eyes betrayed his emotions. “ _I DO NOT NEED DOORS ANYMORE. I NEED FEAR. AND FEAR IS WHAT I SMELL ON YOU, SUIT.”_

“Go get your nose checked, Nightmare, I don’t fear you.” Mike said nastily.

“NO? NO. YOU _HATE_ ME, DON’T YOU?” Nightmare chuckled darkly; flicking the sharp tip of his thumb against the hook of his pointer finger as casually as a human might check their fingernails. “I TURNED YOUR PERFECT LITTLE WORLD ON ITS HEAD. _RUINED_ YOUR DREAMS FOR THAT STUPID HOVEL OF A RESTURANT. WELL, GUESS WHAT.” It wasn’t a question, and Mike took a step back from the sheer force of rage and heartbreak bleeding off Nightmare like a wound. “DESTROYING THE DINER IS THE BEST THING I CAN DO FOR THE WORLD! IT’S MY RIGHT TO DO SO! AFTER WHAT HAPPENED… ** _HOW CAN YOU DEFEND IT?”_**

“Arthur—“ Mike remembered briefly Nightmare was still powered by a sweet, hurt little child who was the victim of a terrible accident. Still, Nightmare—or was it Arthur?—had asked him a question. As Nightmare and he talked they had started a strange, slow dance filled with anticipation and defiance.

Mike shifted his weight again, one circling the other. Whoever got to close to the other was going to lose a limb, and if Mike looked hard at the edges of Nightmare he noticed something new. Parts of the black bear were almost…fuzzy. Like bad reception, like the figures in a fever dream.

“Because…”

Nightmare wasn’t _entirely_ solid, not yet. It was good enough to pass. But he was taking a huge gamble coming out here, and both of them now knew it.

“Because this _isn’t_ the diner where you died. _This_ is the restaurant where your friends live, where I work. Because if you go after someone then you’re no better than your big brother when he bullied you…and…” As Mike spoke, he realized something was moving behind Nightmare. It slunk low to the ground, and he tried to watch it without being obvious. A furry red tail slipped out of sight and Mike gave Nightmare a dangerous, almost casual smile. 

“And because _I’m_ the night guard. And this IS what’s Right.” He swung the shovel after that, which Nightmare of course ducked since Mike had made the arc wide on purpose. Nightmare’s look of rage turned to swift confusion when he realized Mike had only been the decoy. A second later the monster was sent to the ground as something rotted and red and gray launched into his side, sending them tumbling.

But Nightmare Foxy was used to moving swiftly, and he was up and off Nightmare in the time it took for Mike to take off at a run in a random direction. Metal was striking against the black top behind him, telling Mike that at least they were still _near_ the restaurant and not near the forest. And also, that Nightmare Foxy had abandoned Nightmare as swiftly as he had attacked the former leader. The Nightmare fox kept pace with Mike rather easily, but he made much more noise than Mike did. A quick reach for Gold confirmed Mike’s suspicions. To Switch and bring Gold out wouldn’t do much good yet. They had to time this carefully so Mike and Gold didn’t lose a third time to Nightmare. Because right now Mike’s small stature and quicker frame was most likely the only thing keeping him alive. Gold would just be one big glowing target in this darkness that Nightmare had brought with him. For now Gold stayed at bay, a constant presence in the back of the night guard’s mind that was more comforting than anything else.

“Mari? Is that you?” Mike panted as Nightmare Foxy out loped him, dropping to all fours.

The Nightmare Foxy flashed amber yellow optics at him and garbled mechanically at him. No, it was not the puppet, and Mike felt rather alone. Still, Nightmare Foxy had saved him, even risked challenging his Leader Animatronic to help Mike. Even if it was only a hit and run, it was still uncharacteristically bold for the skittish monster animatronic.

“Don’t worry—“ Mike gasped as they pushed through the endless blackness. The two of them heard Nightmare now following them and both shared glances with one another.

“Don’t worry—I’ll think of a way out of here.” Or rather, into the safety of restaurant.

It was their only chance.

* * *

As Danny stood, cornered like a rat in a trap between freedom and Shadow, he wondered why what the hell was making that ‘ _ooohhing’_ sound. It wasn’t him; it wasn’t even Shadow Bonnie, who seemed to only communicate in giggles and wickedly wide beams.  

It was the wind, strangely enough. Danny couldn’t remember hearing it ever like this before, but it whistled through every crack it could find in the old pizzeria, rising and falling but never falling enough to go silent.

Then Danny noticed Shadow Bonnie was grinning at the ceiling, not at him.

 _‘He hears it too, and he knows it means something bad._ ’ The thought struck him, and right after another thought of how insane he sounded came at him.

Shadow Bonnie moved rustily, seemed to just float backwards and leaning down the hall until it coasted off.

_‘He wants me to follow him.’_

‘Want’ was replaced by ‘needs’ almost in the same second as Danny thought this.

As Shadow Bonnie rocked toward a big metal box that hung on the wall, Danny stumbled after him as if on a lead.

_‘He can’t do it by himself. The animatronics don’t see him. No one sees him because he isn’t supposed to be seen…’_

For a long moment, both Shadow and human stared at the electrical box. Danny opened it so hard the door banged on the wall it was resting on, but the noise wasn’t louder than the string of thoughts wandering through Danny’s mind. As Danny’s arm moved, so did Shadow Bonnie’s, the gesture the same but only one was making any real change.

 _‘I need to wake up the restaurant. I need to turn on the light.’_ Danny thought to himself, at the same time wondering vaguely if he was really doing the thinking but deciding it just didn’t matter. His fingers trailed down the written words, Mike’s handwriting that labeled the light fixture areas.

_‘I need to get the night guard back here, and I need to fucking hurry.’_

He raised a hand, every action mechanical, and started flicking switches. Suddenly, Danny’s mind was his own.

_‘I need to see this through to the End, Dad.’_

Shadow Bonnie’s smiling visage didn’t disappear until the last toggle had slammed into ‘On.’

* * *

Mike pulled Nightmare Foxy up by his long arm, groaning from the weight as the Nightmare fox hauled itself back up.

“You okay?” Mike asked, looking around to see where Nightmare had gone this time.

Nightmare Foxy tried saying something but it was staticy and strained.

“He got your voice box, then…” Mike frowned and turned in a circle. Nightmare had lunged out, taken down Nightmare Foxy so powerfully it was a wonder the fox was still able to get up. Mike was inwardly glad he had the foresight to duck down to the ground, because a few scrapes and bruises were much better than his rib cage being smashed in.

Nightmare Foxy suddenly croaked, and Mike turned to see what it was seeing.

“Holy shit—is that the!?”

From the darkness was a large, neon red outline high up in the air. The stained-yellow neon was distantly making the words _Freddy Fazbear’s_ , and the S flickered something terrible. The smaller ‘ _Pizzeria’_ was in bright green below it and the gaudy 80’s tones were such a relief to see Mike could have cried.

“Let’s go!” He told the fox, taking off at a reenergized sprint for the sign. As he got closer he saw more lights, and remembered he had locked the front doors before he left. Nightmare was behind them, the horrific chug of smog almost on their ankles. Both human and animatronic scrambled around the side of the building and bolted for the back door.

“Open the door _openthedoor_ —“ Mike called frantically, because he could hear Nightmare catching up to him at a remarkably quick pace.

Thankfully Bonnie and Danny were there, and the rabbit yanked open the door wide as it could go. Nightmare Foxy bounded in and right on his tail came Mike. As soon as the two were cleared Bonnie and Freddy pushed as one and everyone heard the satisfying thud as Nightmare collided with the door.

“We did it!” Danny said, and everyone shared his sentiments for a brief moment.

This was because there was another bang, and a sliding noise like something was slithering against the wood of the outside.

“We… _did_ do it, right?” The day guard whispered in growing terror as the door buckled and pushed against Bonnie and Freddy. Mike saw the two shared panicked looks, and though he was out of breath he motioned for Chica and Foxy to help.

The original four all piled their weight against the back door, but that turned out to be useless anyway.

“What was it he said…” Mike asked himself out loud, the puzzle pieces clicking into place. “He uses fear as a—Danny _move_!”

Black tendrils were leaking through the lock hole, the door jamb and underneath like so many skeletal fingers. Danny only just pulled his ankle from one collecting mass of shadows and sludge when another tried for him. It seemed to ignored the robots, reminding Mike that Nightmare seemed to pretty much ignore other animatronics around him when he was hunting humans. He disregarded them at best and belittled and bullied them at worst. And maybe, if Mike thought about it, that was Nightmare’s weakness.

After all, the Fazgang was never more dangerous than when they were working together.

“Freddy.” Mike said, making the bear spare him a look. If Faz seemed surprised at the sudden defiance and spark in the night guard’s eyes, he didn’t comment on it. “Keep someone watching that camera.” He pointed to one of the newest cameras, trained on the back door. Its light was off, but that was because no one was using the tablet to monitor it.

“And when you see it blink three times, let go of the door and go to your places.”

Bonnie started to protest but Freddy quieted him with a look. The door wobbled tiredly and more sludge piled under the door and started dragged toward Mike and Danny blindly.

“Good luck, son.” Freddy said, and then added. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do, because I’ve got you guys on my side.” Mike told him firmly with a nod as he avoided the smoke trails coming for them. As soon as they got far enough away Nightmare’s strange form wandered and milled about, like it wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. More of the black monster shoved its way through as tendrils wobbled and gathered. Mike thought he saw hooked claws trying to form.

A dangerous grin slipped over Mike’s face and he grabbed Danny by the arm.

“Come with me, I’ve got a plan.”

“Uh—“ Still, Danny went along.

“We outnumber Nightmare, and he knows that.” Mike said as he dragged the kid down the hall toward his office. He skidded to a halt, yanked open his desk drawers and began rifling around in them. “He also knows we’re the easiest targets, and that if he wants Gold’s body so he can exist out here he needs to kill me. Because I sure as hell ain’t going down without a fight.”

Mike handed Danny several long, thick screw drivers, their red casing handles glinting in the dim light. Mike pocketed several for himself, and then grabbed the tablet.

“Here’s what Nightmare doesn’t know. He’s out here, so now he has to play by _our_ rules.”

“And what _are_ our rules?”

Mike shut both doors in answer, then booted up the tablet and switched to the new camera. The gang was still trying to hold the door back, and a quick look at the other rooms offered him darkness. Pointy, tucked up darkness that was pressing itself in corners and around doors on purpose, and Mike smiled. He couldn’t be sure, but he had a feeling Nightmare Foxy had gotten to his friends and spread the word. Good.

Mike switched to the back door’s camera, noticed Chica was staring at them, and tapped away and back several times.

On the fourth return to the screen, Mike and Danny watched as the Fazgang pulled back and just seemed to vanish. Static chewed up the feed, and Danny made a worried noise.

“That’s normal,” Mike assured calmly, “That means they’re all moving at once. Never could quite get that bug out, but—here we go.”

On the Show Stage’s CAM A and looking deceptively innocent and shut down, stood his friends in their normal poses, looking exactly as they had the first week Mike was on the job. CAM 1C showed Foxy’s closed curtain.

And the back door showed Nightmare stomping his way in.

“Okay….here goes.”

“But, but Mr. Schmidt, you’re going right for him!” Danny called.

“That’s the idea. Don’t buy into the act, Danny. It’s not a trick if you know who’s pulling the strings!” Mike bolted from the safety of the office and peeked around the wall to the back hall that led to the other Exit. Nightmare quickly spotted him, and seemed to quickly forget about the others animatronics, like Mike planned. The bear was so intent on his revenge he might as well have been wearing blinders.

Perfect.

“Hey, Nightmare! Twenty years hasn’t improved your looks, ugly!” Mike called down the hall, turning the flashlight on. The light sizzled along the frame of the Prize room, and Mike leapt through it as Nightmare flung toward him. His reaching, deadly claws met only air as behind him, the sound of sneakers skidding across tile sounded.

A screwdriver clanged against the back of his skull—the noise was sharp and twanging—and Nightmare roared angrily. The behemoth bear swung around as Mike skidded to a halt, a soft glow around the kitchen door dying.

When Nightmare realized the trick, he roared again in annoyance and frustration. The black bear punched a wall as he stormed back the way he had come. Mike kept up his disarming, friendly smile and saluted the bear before taking off. Just as Nightmare got close Mike would turn the flashlight on and aim it at a door, then the flashight’s strange force would create a door to another, safer part of the restaurant and Mike would hop through it. The biggest trick was keeping the jumps where Nightmare could see or hear him.

By the time Nightmare found Mike finally in the center of a big room and unable to get to a door in time, his body heaved and shed black smog in waves.

“NO WHERE TO HIDE NOW, BOY.” Nightmare wheezed with a furious sneer of satisfaction. He was five paces from Mike when he realized the night guard was just standing there.

“And so are you, _little guy.”_ Mike’s amused tone caused Nightmare to halt in surprise, and take half a step back in hesitation. And possibly a hint of unease.

Nightmare saw the three sets of glowing eyes too late, realizing why this room was so big. It was the Dining Hall. It was the one place on Mike’s terf where every robot fit, and he knew that.

“ ** _Now_**!” Mike shouted, and on cue everyone jumped from their positions. Nightmare Bonnie and Chica both pulled out from their hiding spots behind the curtains, teeth chewing the air as they joined the original four.

Nightmare Foxy came crawling out from under a table near Mike, back arched and pacing to cover Mike’s right side. His hook tked tked on the tile and he remained hunched over but snarling for all he was worth. Dimly, Mike was rather proud of Nightmare Foxy.

With nowhere to go and now realizing he could not bully his way out of this one, Nightmare was stuck in the golden beam of Arthur’s flashlight. The contrast made him look that much spookier, like it was sucking the light up into his body. And maybe the flashlight was, in some way…

But sooner there would be no room left to hold the light, and it would force its way back out again. And this is exactly what was happening.

The flashlight beam stayed trained on Nightmare, and a strange _swooshing_ sound could be heard. It was like wind, almost. No, it _was_ wind, strong wind that was carried by the sizzling golden light. It was relentless and almost cruel, the way it buffeted the smog and shadows of the creature’s great body.

“Block him from the door ways!” Mike commanded, and obediently all the robots created a circle. Even the Nightmare doppelgangers did what Mike asked, each following the one they were created after. On either side of Mike stood a Foxy model, one more ragged and torn than the other, and the other more confident and stable. The two Bonnies cast dark sneers at one another and used their longer frames to loom over Nightmare, and even the two Chicas closed the space between them enough to prevent anyone from getting through. Nightmare tried feinting a few times at any of them, and did his best to bully his way through. But they remained immobile and glaring, not letting the exposed monster near any doors or shadows so he could hide from this exorcism.

When all was said and done, all that stood before them was the thin, tall metal endoskeleton that all the animatronics carried. Nightmare’s red eyes gleamed and narrowed at him, his smaller, remaining set of teeth gnashing. He still had his hooked, drill-like claws and they raked through the air, while Nightmare kept up his menacing posture. And for a moment, Mike feared it hadn’t worked, that just because they had revealed Nightmare for what it truly was—nothing more than an endoskeleton with some pointy bits—that Nightmare would continue his reign of terror. Beside Mike, the little purple light of Arthur’s soul bobbed and fluttered, freed from its cage.And something else was going on too, Mike noticed when the normal Foxy nudged his arm and pointed.

The Nightmare gang—Bonnie, Chica and Foxy—were all staring with wide eyes at what remained of their once deadly leader.

They looked surprised, shocked and…brutally hungry.

Nightmare noticed it too. “YOU ALL—DON’T EVEN _THINK_ ABOUT IT! I AM STILL THE STRONGEST OF YOU WEAKLINGS!” His voice thundered, but he might as well have been talking about the weather, for all the attention they paid him.

Nightmare Foxy was moving in his slow, hunched manner. The ragged fox glanced back at Mike, and something passed between them. Almost imperceptibly, Mike nodded at the monster encouragingly. The night guard promised Arthur’s older brother, that he had his back. Arthur’s older brother, who caused all this. Who yearned to set things right after what he had done.

If the last thing he ever did was protect Arthur from Nightmare by being the bigger bully, then so be it. It was a Good Death, Nightmare Foxy decided.

Suddenly, Nightmare Foxy moved with more courage and boldness that seemed to surprise even him. His feet scrapped the ground as he pushed forward, his muzzle lifted and, staring Nightmare dead in the eyes as he advanced—

The torn fox drew himself up—and up and up. Standing at his full height showed just how commonly sized Nightmare really was. He wasn’t taller than Foxy, if anything Nightmare Foxy’s ears gave him a couple inches. Suddenly, Nightmare looked almost small, and everyone who wasn’t a Nightmare robot blinked in surprise.

Nightmare Foxy snapped his jaws near Nightmare, testing the waters. And something strange and shocking happened.

Nightmare _flinched_.

All of a sudden the remaining Nightmares were sharing eager, wicked looks with one another. They looked between one another, even looked at Plushtrap—who looked delighted—and something passed between them all. It was wordless, it was even soundless, but it was apparently all they needed. Nightmares Chica and Bonnie followed the once-skittish Foxy’s lead and flanked him. Nightmare snarled but it died off, when he noticed he was being cornered by his own lackeys. Nightmare Foxy took another jab with his muzzle, teeth clanging together inches from Nightmare, who flinched again despite himself. Still, the creature rallied.

“GET AWAY YOU FOOLS! DON’T YOU HEAR ME?! _YOU OBEY ME! OBEY ME_ —“

Nightmare Foxy swiveled his head and just roared in their fallen leader’s face, and the other two grabbed hold of Nightmare’s endoskeleton arms. Their death grips kept the monster from struggling, and another well placed snap of Nightmare Foxy’s deadly teeth kept Nightmare tense and distracted.

Mike’s flashlight still illuminated the red-eyed endoskeleton, and he kept it trained even as he realized what the Nightmares were doing. Slowly but firmly, Nightmare was being dragged towards the back of the Dining Hall. Whether it was because it was the nearest doorway or not, Mike didn’t know. He didn’t speak Nightmare well, but all three seemed to have the same idea. Nightmare Bonnie sniggered at the Nightmare Chica, who clicked her beak sharply at him. Their friendliness at one another was not aimed at Nightmare, but they did listen when Nightmare Foxy growled something and pointed behind them commandingly. Another wrench and the endoskeleton was hauled farther back. Nightmare continued roaring, but it was all in vain.

“W-where are they taking him?” Danny asked, and no one blamed the tremble in his voice.

Mike wasn’t sure himself at first, but then he saw the door. And remembering what he was told on his very first night here at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, he knew with sobering clarity.

“They’re going to Parts and Services, Danny.” Mike spoke with deceptive calm. “He’s an Endoskeleton without a Suit…and that’s against the rules here.”

Beside him, Freddy Fazbear nodded in slow agreement.

In some ways? That guy on the phone had been right all along, Mike realized.

Plushtrap was the last one through the door, and he turned. His grimy little paw grabbed hold of the bottom of the frame. The yellow bunny toy stared up at them owlishly, as behind him came noises that are probably only heard in the pits of hell. Then, slowly, and still keeping unblinking eye contact, he narrowed his great wide optics, giving them all a devilish, rather wicked stare.

And so Plushtrap raised his free paw to his head, and held one digit in front of his stout teeth, as if reminding them all to be quiet.

As Nightmare’s roars melted to distant screams of fear, Plushtrap moved his jaw, and spoke.

_“Game. Over.”_

With one fluid hop backwards into the darkness, Plushtrap pulled the door to Parts and Services closed. It banged with a dull, final thud, taking Nightmare and all the others with him. The howling stopped.

When Mike bucked up all his courage and opened the door a few minutes later, there was nothing there at all. But of course, why would there be? Mike thought it over, and decided the puppet had been right all along as well.  

Nightmares could not be found when no one was scared of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! With Nightmare out of the way we can tie up the last of the loose ends. There’s approximately two chapters left including a sort of…trailer, if you will for the Sister Location based story. It will be—god willing. Yes Scott, I’m looking at you—the LAST part in the knight guard series.


	19. Jeremy Keeps His Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *The night guard's wife  
> *Bonnie Makes a Choice  
> *The Last Shift for Two

**Part III**

**  
Chapter 19. Jeremy Keeps His Promise**

* * *

 

It was the night just after Nightmare’s exile, and the sky was overcast and dark in the deepening twilight. Rain drizzled from the sky, and promised to freeze if the temperature dropped any lower in the late November day.

Mrs. Fitzgerald, wife of the late Jeremy Fitzgerald, was a thin woman with bird hands and a long nose. An ancient Ford took her to the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, and she parked by a rusted car that looked in poorer shape than hers. As she got out and stood in the cool dusk, the building’s neon sign glowed wearily above her, the S flickered almost every fifty seconds. Her blue heels took her to the front door, where she took several deep breaths. At this point she reminded herself Things Were Better Now, and steeled her face. Still, when she knocked on the door, Mrs. Fitzgerald smiled awkwardly at the looming bear and asked softly to see a Mr. Schmidt.

Freddy Fazbear’s optics tracked her every facial tick, his processor chugging along. If he recognized the woman in anyway, he didn’t say so.

“Follow me, miss.” And when he called her miss her face flushed. She did not correct him, because the ring that was missing its twin was on a chain under her clothes. It was most certainly not on her finger. She had not remarried.

The stage was empty and all the tables in the Dining room had chairs on them with their legs up.

“You’d be young Danny’s mother, wouldn’t ya?” Freddy said as he walked in front of her. Arguably, she felt better with the robot in front of her, even knowing this wasn’t the one that had killed that her husband. Even knowing that the entire line of those other toys had long been decommissioned anyway, and that had, as far as she knew, no guards or children had gone missing after Mike Schmidt became the manager.

“I, I am, yes.” Her husband had talked at length about the animatronic’s little quirks and expressions, almost as if they were real people. As if they had souls. And when Danny had started talking like it too, she knew she had to come here.

“Boy’s a bit young ta be workin.” It was a touch accusatory, but Mrs. Fitzgerald didn’t have the bite in her to retaliate. She remembered Toy Freddy, at least what it had looked like. Shiny plastic, fresh paint and always with a wide smile it couldn’t seem to move off its muzzle. This Freddy Fazbear was nothing like that, his expression and gestures seemed to border on human and it was unnerving. He spoke like a southern gentlemen but she recalled that was a programmed accent.

“No, no I know he is.” Mrs. Fitzgerald exhaled softly. “H-He came to _me_ about a job, and then a week later he said he had one and I just…I thought he was working at a gas station.” She admitted, glancing behind her down the dark hall.

“I see. Bit far from onna’those, miss.” It was certainly a chiding remark if there ever was one, which was…strange…coming from a computer personality. But the brown bear was massive and intimidating, and she hadn’t seen another living soul yet. She didn’t feel frightened, just on edge. It felt like the walls had eyes.

The entire restaurant was nothing like the toy’s restaurant had been. This one was cramped—and the Fazgang made it especially so—and it was just so gloomy and faded. Tired. For some reason, though she only knew of the fire that had happened a few weeks ago, she had the smallest inkling that she had come at the right time. It seemed like most of the building was sleeping comfortably, but the warm glow of light from the door at the end of the long hall said otherwise.  Maybe most of the place was shut down for the night, but this spot certainly was alive with life.

Some part of it was awake then, she realized. The thought struck her has odd even as she agreed with it. Buildings didn’t sleep and wake up like humans did, that was ridiculous.

“Son?” Her guide grunted, his deep baritone suddenly friendly and downright affectionate. Mrs. Fitzgerald could hear the sounds of one of Danny’s handheld electronic games, and then it stopped. Playing games on his job, with his boss?

“A’yeah?” The man that got up and came to lean off the door frame was a man two or three decades younger than her, and it made her freeze for an instant. Jeremy was— _had been_ , she chided herself—taller, had more muscle but the uniform was the same and the friendly smile despite the atmosphere was the same too. For a brief second, she was struck with a memory of something Jer had once said to her.

_‘It’s something about that place, Carrie. If you do your job and you work hard, it’s like the robots know it and treat you like your family. But they know a worker when they see one. Afton was late again for his shift and Toy Fred gave him an earful. I don’t know what it is or how they program them to do it, but I’ve never felt happier working there. It’s like a second home…’_

“Mom?!” Danny’s voice broke her from her thoughts. “Mom, w-what the heck are you doing _here?”_

“Looking for you, mister.” Her meek tone was gone the instant she saw her son standing behind the young man, who cleared his throat awkwardly. Nothing like motherhood to bring out the spine in all of us. She had been worried, he was her only son and her only connection to Jeremy. He looked down at his sneakers almost shamefully, and Mrs. Fitzgerald softened her stare a fraction. Danny was a good, kind boy who’d dealt with loss but even he was prone to rash choices and normal teenage bouts of trouble. And besides, she would rather have a slightly wild child than no child at all. Losing your husband gave you perspective like that.

“Mom? This is your--? Oh, uh…” The scrawny man ran his hands through his hair awkwardly.

“We’ll…let you two catch up…” Mr. Schmidt mumbled, walking out of the little room and absentmindedly shooed the animatronic to move to. Seeing the skinny man so matter of factly deal with this massive machine made the woman glance at Mike in a little bit of awe and something deeper. Fazbear simply followed after the man like a puppy. They disappeared down the hall.

“…Mom?” She turned at the sound of her son’s voice. “…I wasn’t trying to hide from you.” Danny started, motioning for her to come into room and she did.

“I just, I didn’t think you’d want me to work here after what happened to Dad and…and to be honest I didn’t want to work here either. I hated it here.”

This surprised Mrs. Fitzgerald, and she told her son as much. Why had he taken the job if he still hated it?

“I took this job because, because well, when I saw it in the paper I thought of Dad and I thought, maybe…”

She knew where this was going.

“Because you wanted to find something of your father.” Mrs. Fitzgerald suddenly felt tired. She leaned against the desk and hid her face in her hands for a moment. On instinct, Danny walked over and gave his mom a quick hug.

“Well… _yeah_.” Danny groaned tiredly. “I haven’t yet, turns out this isn’t even the right building. All I remember so far is Bon but he didn’t remember me and he didn’t even _look_ like how I used to remember so I’m not even sure if…what?” He stopped his rant, for his mother was staring at him.

“Bon—As in, _Bonnie_?” she spoke slowly. “The bunny model? It’s—he’s purple, isn’t he?”

“Yeah? Why…mom, what’s wrong?” Because his mother looked distressed and it was freaking him out a little. He loosened his hug to lean away and look at her. He realized dimly how tall he was getting; he could look her in the eye now instead of up at her. When had _that_ happened?

“Bonnie was your favorite.” Mrs. Fitzgerald spoke in a watery tone, but she became more certain as she went on.

“Not the light blue one—you always said it was ugly. You liked the one in the backroom, that your father said they were trying to fix or, or something. I saw it once or twice, without its face; I was so scared of it. But you weren’t. You ran right up to it without a care in the world…” Carrie breathed tiredly into her hand, realizing that try as they might, they can’t stop history from repeating itself. Even against stacked odds, Danny had found his way to back to the restaurant his father loved. And he had reconnected with the Bonnie model like years hadn’t passed between them.

“You loved the restaurant as a child, and you loved one animatronic in particular. He was not the lead animatronic, he was not spectacular, but you loved that rabbit.”

“And then, at the party…” She trailed off, but knew she needed to push on.

“The party?” Danny asked.

Mrs. Fitzgerald nodded, finally moving her hands but folded her arms across her chest as if to protect herself.

“They were closing down because of the murders, but they let you have your birthday party that Saturday. I didn’t think it was right but…but Jer said he wanted you to remember Freddy’s as a happy place. Your father came in from the night shift to work the day because they were so understaffed, and one of the Toys, he got too close or something and it…it just…

It _bit_ him. It was a white one, I think, I can’t really remember.” But they both knew what happened next, because Danny had asked and his mother had told him. After half a week in a coma he had died of his injuries. He had lasted three days longer than Arthur had, so many years ago.

And then she told Danny what her son didn’t know.

“You, you were so _little_ when your father died, Danny. Your grief came out as anger. I came home one day and you had destroyed every picture of him we had…” She heard her son’s audible gasp and glanced at him, feeling miserable for having to tell him.

_“I_ did that? I thought—you told me _you_ got rid of them! You, you said some things are better best just forgotten.” Danny floundered, looking heartbroken. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it was for the best. I _never_ thought your search would lead you here, I guess I didn’t want to think that.” His mother admitted softly. “Your father was right. This place…it pulls you in and doesn’t let go once it has you.”

“So…so I’m the reason I have nothing left of him?”

“I thought it would be easier for you.” She whispered softly. “It wasn’t, it was wrong of me, and I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart.”

Even as she apologized, her son’s lost look was taking on one of dreadful realization. Since they were airing out old ghosts, Danny went on.

“I hated the restaurant after dad died. I hated that place, and I hated the animatronics. I blamed all of them for what happened to dad and—but Mike _told me,_ mom. It wasn’t them, it wasn’t their fault. Someone literally reprogrammed them to act all messed up and…I dunno. Dad would have forgiven them, if he knew it wasn’t their fault.”

“He would have. He did.” She closed her eyes so the tears didn’t fall. She felt her son’s arms wind around her, and she hugged him back tightly. But as she hugged him, her mind made itself up.

“Your father used to tell me that life is made up of memories. Even bad memories have a place in a good life. I can’t give you back your father but if this is where you want to work, I won’t stop you. Just, just please don’t fall back on your studies, your grades…your life.”

Danny knew what she was asking. _Please stay safe._ But the teen shook his head. “Mike’s going to try and keep this place open another half a year. I dunno if he’ll be _able_ to but…if anyone can do it, he can mom.” Danny took a breath and told his mother the truth.

“I _want_ to work here until I know it won’t close if I leave. I want to, want to see this through to the end.” And when Danny said that, his mother made a noise like a half choke, as if she were holding something in.

“You’re just like him, baby. He’d be so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.” Carrie Fitzgerald murmured to him, pulling him in for one last hug.

“Thanks, mom.” Danny said, hiding against his mom’s body for a long while.

They were so busy holding one another and trying to stop the others tears they didn’t hear the soft thuds of footfalls from the Left Hall.

* * *

“You want me to _what_!?” Mike yelped from behind Foxy’s pirate ship. He had busied himself with fixing the string of lights that ran up the mast for a bit. But now Bonnie had just come to him with a much bigger job. And slightly more dangerous, at least where Bonnie was concerned.

“You heard me, man!” Bonnie said, paws on hips as he looked up at Mike. “I’m pretty sure they’re still in there, and if _anyone_ can dig em out, you can. I don’t want onna the tech guys, or anyone else for that matter. Fred’ll give you my password and you can do the rest.”

“Bonnie, that’s not…I mean, isn’t that a huge risk?” Mike bit his lip but, Bonnie noticed, the night guard was stowing his tools away. Mike hadn’t said yes, but he also hadn’t said no. Foxy pushed the ladder over, out of sight behind the big ship and Mike started to clamber down. As Mike disappeared behind the towering set, Foxy fixed his golden optic on the rabbit.

“Uhm, not really.” Bonnie finally said, lying through his teeth.

“Belay that! Jus’what be the matter wit ye, lad?” Foxy asked sharply. “Goin diggin up old ghosts ain’t right. I’da thought ye of all of us woulda wanted the 80’s ta stay buried.”

“I don’t _need_ the entire decade, Foxy.” Bonnie informed with a tone that said he wasn’t budging. “I just need ’85 to ’87. Uhm, August, I think…or was it March?”

Foxy gave him a dark stare.

“See? Ye can’t even remember what month ye need, and ye expect the lad ta dig through that unstable system a’yours? _I_ remember what they told King when this ship opened.”

“King?” Mike narrowed in on the name as he walked out from behind the stage. “What did they tell King in 1991?”

“Foxy!” Bonnie said accusatorily, but he grumbled and let the fox explain to Mike.

“We had just been sent ta this here port o call lad, fer our brand new Pizzeria. The lubbers who installed us were from the old ship, ye see, and they knew us well. It’d be another year a’fore I broke down and they quarantined me—“ Mike gave the fox a sympathetic look. Foxy being left to _just rot_ in his Cove never had never set well with the night guard.

“But we overheard em telling King ‘bout all us. Freddy and Chica were fine, not too bad shape, endos in working order.  Them stains on Faz wouldn’t come until later. I wasn’t expected ta last a month meself, but the rabbit here…”

“Bonnie? What about him?” Mike thought back to his first few nights on the job. Bonnie had a limp, and the awful chilling tendency to groan a lot. But at first glance, no one would accuse him of being broken down. Especially not compared to Foxy.

But then it dawned on Mike, even as Foxy told him. There was a lot more ways to wreck on the animatronics than just cosmetically. That was a scary, sobering thought. They couldn’t all be like paranormal mystery the Marion had been.

“Rabbit’s hard drive just didn’t take well ta the new facial system. Darn fools jury rigged it and nearly blew his whole system. Almost fried his motherboard, in fact. S’why young Danny remembers a broken down bot, ain’t it Bon?”

Bonnie looked sourly at his feet. “…they said they’d fix me. They just never did. They took off my face, installed what they could and left me in the backroom until the move in ’91.” Bon wouldn’t look at anyone, as if shamed. “And even then, it was only because of Freddy. ‘ _You couldn’t have a Freddy without a Bonnie,’_ everyone kept saying. So they threw me together, put me online and never fixed my facial recognition or what’s left of my harddrive.”

Mike swallowed. “So you were…you were out of order for _ten years_? Just like Foxy was at this restaurant?”

“Heh. You always wondered why me and him hung around so much, Mikey.” Bonnie didn’t look amused though. “But listen. Sometimes, when I’m lucky, I can access those files. My optics might have been junky but I know I saw everything. I was there. I may not have recognized much but I’ll bet my guitar that there’s something of Jeremy on my cameras.”

“Even if there was Bonnie, I would have a better chance of getting the video feed from one of the others.” In the four years Bonnie mentioned, one of them must have seen this Jeremy Fitzgerald.

But Bonnie was shaking his head. “Nope. Freddy’s video feed from ’79 to ‘90 got deleted by King. Chica never really knew Jeremy and Foxy, well…”

“Aye, my optics were terrible. Reset meself every time a light flashed in me eyes.” The pirate fox admitted with a grumpy look. “Oh, I still got the audio files but that’s about it.”

“The only other one who would remember better would be—“ Mike closed his eyes and groaned. The Puppet had known who Danny was all along, too. He had just buried the body of that animatronic, and it would do no good now. Arthur’s soul was inside the present box resting, but it wasn’t interacting or responding to anyone at all.

“Bon’s the only one with a video feed of the 80’s. Because no one ever bothered ta rip em out, did they rabbit?” It wasn’t said meanly, but Mike knew why Foxy was saying this. He was scared for Bonnie too.

“Shut up, Foxy.” Bonnie said, but it was with a little voice and he looked pleadingly at Mike.

“ _Please_ , Mike.” And Mike can’t ever really remember Bonnie asking him ‘please’ like this. “I can give something back to my kid. He thought I was great even when I was a broken down mess. And Jer was good as a guard as anyone, maybe even as good as you.” Bonnie’s way of saying he was ‘Gold material.’

“Please. You’re the only I trust to do this.” Bonnie said. “Just try.”

Mike’s lips were in a flat line but he exhaled through his nose tiredly.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Bonnie smiled.

* * *

“Ready, Bonnie?” Mike asked.

He, Freddy and Bonnie were all in Parts and Services. It was somewhere around one in the morning, and Danny and his mother had gone home already. Bonnie hadn’t said a word to Danny about his plan, so Mike hadn’t either. They only had one shot at this, and they had a feeling Danny would try and stop Bonnie if given half the chance. At least, that was Mike’s opinion. He knew that if Freddy tried any self-sacrificing stuff like this the night guard would have a few words to say to him. But this wasn’t about Mike, or Freddy even.

 This about Bonnie and his desire to give Danny the one thing he wanted.

“Bonnie…are you _sure_ you’re sure? It’s not too late…I mean, maybe there’s some other way…”

Mike trailed off; half hoping Freddy would finish with an even better reason on why his friend shouldn’t do this. But Freddy’s blue optics remained on Bonnie and the big bear said nothing.

Bonnie hesitated for a second, that was for sure. To Mike, that was also some type of proof on something deeper. Computers didn’t pause for thought before giving a solution to a problem.

Except Bonnie _wasn’t_ a normal computer anymore, and anything that happened to him on the table would be hard to fix.

“I’m ready.”

Mike sighed. “Okay. You know the drill.” They all did, Mike had done a casual sweep of their hard drives at least once, but he had never gone into Files or moved or deleted anything. He wasn’t King.

Bonnie’s glowing eyes faded, flickered and went dark. The sound of his servos and processors took longer to slow but as soon as Mike saw Bonnie was completely shut off, he booted up the little laptop that was connected to Bonnie’s head and neck. Four minutes later the laptop choked to life and began opening the system of the animatronic it was connected to in about three places. The cords shifted as Mike moved into a better position, and he looked at the illuminated screen.

_Welcome to FazOS Ver 1.9.8.0. Loading Funimatronic AI ‘BONBUN2.’_ The computer said.

“… _two_? I thought—oh, wait.” Mike stopped his question, having answered himself. “Right, Springtrap was....right.”

Freddy nodded.

“Okay,” Mike breathed. “So far, so good.”  Then he saw what Foxy meant now, and it was something Mike hadn’t really noticed before. Whenever he had done a rudimentary sweep of any of the main four before—usually Freddy—the FazOS all read 1.9.9.0. Bonnie’s operating system was about ten years behind.

“I _think_ I can find what he wants, it’s just a matter of getting it _out_.” Mike said, half to himself and half to Freddy, who was strangely quiet. Mike clicked on a few folders curiously, just trying to get a feel for digging around what was essentially the brain of his friend.

He hardly had the words out before the computer flashed up a new window.

_Warning! Funimatronic AI ‘BONBUN2’ Processor 3 cannot load FacialRec Ver 8.5._

_Processor 3 is Unable to Recognize DRAM Memory Slot 4_

_Continue Anyway?_

“We only got four slots anyway.” Freddy rumbled over his shoulder, as Mike read the message to him.

“Can everyone else use all their Memory Slots?” Mike asked as he closed the Warning window and pressed on. He started in the first Processor file but found nothing more than Bon’s audio tone, his programmed poses and his song files. There was even a file simply labeled ‘GuitarData.’ Mike didn’t click on any of them, but noticed they were not password protected.

“Far as I can recall.” Freddy said slowly. His blue eyes tracked the long window as Mike entered the second processor. “There, ya want that file son.”

Mike dropped the mouse on the folder named BonBunMemoryData and double clicked.

Unsurprisingly, another box popped up.

_Access Denied._

_Requires Administrator ID and Password._

“Uhm, pretty sure I don’t have either of those.”

“S’alright son. I got Bon’s password. Put in here ‘Afton1234’ and for the password put ‘Bonniethebunny…and 103179.’ It’s our names and the date our models were finished.” Freddy explained helpfully as Mike typed.

“Ten…thirty-one…on _Halloween_?” Mike hid his look and just bent over the keyboard.

_Access Granted._

_Funimatronic AI ‘BonBun2’s .Stor file Loading…loading…_

They waited, and waited. And waited some more.

The problem was, Mike decided to himself, the problem was that Bonnie was _not_ human no matter how convincing he was at it. On any other operating table the doctor had the blood pressure, the heart rate, a whole line of ticks and reactions the human body had. All were there to inform any outside source that something was going south. But here, there isn’t anything of that for Mike to look at. Bonnie was only alive in the most basic computer sense. It might as well have been college again and Mike was merely searching through his external hard drive for that missing assignment. Bonnie the bunny, just like all of the Fazgang, was nothing more than machinery and computers at the end of the day, but right now he was like a husk. Inorganic, was the proper term. It was insensitive, cold and unfeeling and it gave Mike the creeps. A ding broke him from his thoughts.

_Loaded_.

The folders flew by in huge numbers, the computer rapidly trying to keep up with the inflow of data. Mike couldn’t keep count but he glanced at the bottom of the screen, and the number was already in the thousands. It slowed around 15k, then stopped.

“Now we just need to find his Video feed from 1985.” Mike stared at the files. “And hope they’re still readable.”

At first, it seemed hopeless. Because the files were all named in ways that made no sense to Mike. It wasn’t binary; it was all long strings of letters and numbers.

Finally, Mike found files that were created in the 1980’s. There were hundreds of them, each named seemingly erratically. He clicked the first one, at a loss for anything else to do, and waited.

Then suddenly, they had a bigger problem.

_File ‘4D689403MBGIIE24’ is corrupt and cannot be opened._

_File ‘4D689403MBGIIE25’ is corrupt and cannot be opened._

“Oh no…” the night guard moaned. “Freddy, I don’t even know where to start. But even when I try it gives me _this_. What are we gunna do?”

“Steady, son.” Fazbear laid a massive paw on Mike’s shoulder comfortingly. “You just use that lil Search Bar there and type in ‘BTBAF…good, now put in Y1980.”

“…found it. Now let’s just hope—“

‘ _File_ _RWQFSFASXC_ _is protected by a password._

“Dammit, Bonnie.” Mike breathed as he tried the same password from before.”Nope, that wasn’t it.”

“Swear jar.” Freddy warned, but it was distracted. Mike leaned back and looked up, and saw Freddy’s thoughtful frown as he gazed at the prone form of his best friend.

“Whatcha thinkin, big guy?” Mike asked.

“Well, now rarely were we in the practice of saving certain memories. Favorite performances, songs, I know Chica’s got her recipes locked up tighter than Fort Knox. An I’m wonderin’…if Bon didn’t lock those files for a reason. It woulda been a long time ago, maybe bout the day we got the news Fitzgerald weren’t coming back.”

“Well, maybe. You think…you think the password could be something to do with that?”

“Can’t hurt ta try.” Freddy shrugged.

So try Mike did.

It wasn’t ‘1985,’ or ‘Danny’ or even ‘RockstarBonnie’ or any of those variations. Mike was about to give up when he the temperature suddenly plummeted. In the back of his skull, like an itch, Gold stirred. Mike tore his gaze from the screen and lost his breath.

 Something foggy black with white teeth and eyes breathed to life in the corner of the room.

“Fr..Freddy…” Mike started, going instinctively still. Freddy had noticed it and moved, taking a protective stance to cover the night guard from view.

But the black shadow, which vaguely resembled the prone bunny on the table, giggled and passed through Freddy like he was nothing more than a curtain. Freddy stumbled, as if his endoskeleton was physically trying to shudder in response to the black creature floating through it.

Mike’s breathing picked up as the shadow lurched closer, like it didn’t quite remember how to walk.

**‘R….X…Q.’** The voice wheezed, sounding choked.

“What?” Mike stared dumbly. He blinked when the letters were merely repeated and looked quickly down at the keyboard.

He typed in the letters as they were said, and a moment later the laptop pinged cheerfully. Mike looked up in time to see the Shadow Bonnie was gone, and the room felt normal again. What was…?

_‘Access Granted!’_

There was only one file.

“Freddy—look. This one, this one is named _Jeremy_ , and that’s it.” Mike said excitedly.

“Best take a look.” Freddy suggested, and Mike agreed silently.

It took a second, but then this file did what all the others refused. It opened. There was static for a second, and it was terribly out of focus for a little longer. But then the image sharpened as Bonnie’s cameras no doubt orientated themselves. In the window showed a man looking up, and for a second Mike was confused until he remembered how tall Bonnie was. He had the same dark hair as their day guard and chin, but his eyes were dark brown. His smile, while tired was heartfelt and friendly. From the computer was a tinny, recorded voice but it was a voice nonetheless.

_“Is it—is it recording? Bon—“_

_“Yes! What do you think the red blinking light means, Fitz?”_

The man laughed, “ _They’re always red, take it easy. Okay.”_ He cleared his throat and then, looking into the camera, waved.

_“Hi Danny. This was Bonnie’s idea. After everything that happened…after we found the…kids, well,”_ The man sobered quickly but shook his head. _“We just thought it was best to make memories. Better than a camcorder, right kiddo? Just in case you want a look back at your dad’s old job before they close the joint. Bon’s gunna email this to me and I’ll save it for you when you’re older. We had a lot of fun in this office, didn’t we? I’ve still got your drawings in my desk, but I’m sure you’ve stashed some more somewhere on me.”_ It was obvious Jeremy assumed this would only ever be played for his son. Mike felt his lips twitch as the father went on. His smile dropped when he realized this was the last video before Jeremy’s fatal accident.

The last video of the man alive.

“ _Remember, kiddo. I love you a whole heckuva lot, and I’ll see you after my shift.”_

The video went black.

“…what happened after that, Freddy? Do you remember?” Mike asked softly.  Mike could make an educated guess, but there was something about being told that was almost cathartic. If nothing else, it made it real. Mike couldn’t pretend that everything ended happily, because sometimes thing just didn’t.

“…I do, son. And I know I myself don’t tell ya this often, but I’m gunna tell it to ya now.” Freddy said, and Mike nodded softly, but wouldn’t look at Freddy.

“…some doors, right?” Mike whispered.

“Some doors.” Freddy agreed gently.

Mike nodded, and moved the Video file over.

Now, it was time to wake Bonnie up.

* * *

Dannys’ shift started the next afternoon. Surprisingly, Mike’s car was not there, but by the time his friends dropped him off, it was trundling into its usual spot. Danny hung by the front doors, waiting for his boss to catch up.

The guy looked like shit.

Not that Mike could really be considered immaculate on any other day, but his shirt was half untucked. His hair was a mess, and his sleeve had a strange stain on the shoulder that looked like oil. Mike blinked at him with hollow circles under his eyes, and it took a moment for the man to seem to register who he was seeing. Maybe Mike was surprised Danny was here earlier than he was, too.

“Uh, hi, Mike.” Danny said. After all they had been through; it seemed strangely acceptable to call the adult by his first name. Even then, Mike was maybe only ten or nine years older than him. Danny had called him ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Schmidt’ in the beginning but now those titles felt impersonal. Mike _was_ his friend, really, and a better boss than he could have hoped for.

“Hey, Danny.” And then, after a swallow of coffee, Mike seemed to really see him.

“I, I need to talk with you, actually. Can we, can you meet me in Parts and Services in five?”

“Sure, I mean—sure. Is everything alright?” Well, now Danny was worried. The day guard shifted uneasily from foot to foot as Mike unlocked the front door. It seemed weird that Freddy’s was closed in the middle of the day, especially on a Saturday. That was usually their best day, up until the fire and Nightmare.

“Mostly.” Mike said. And that was it.

Danny dropped off his jacket and shrugged on his shirt in the bathroom. It was then he realized there wasn’t a two ton purple bunny waiting outside for him. Nor was there that young electronic voice telling him how he was going to get his behind kicked at Skee ball. That was definitely out of the norm. So was a tired, almost depressed looking Mike getting to work after him.

More alarm bells went off in the back of Danny’s mind as he headed for Parts and Services.

Only Chica and Foxy were in their spots. Chica waved at him from the Stage and Foxy glanced out from between his curtains, but neither said anything. Danny didn’t even see wherever the heck BalloonBoy had gotten off to. The place seemed bigger, almost vacant, without the Nightmares to take up the empty space.

“…Mike?” Danny stopped in the doorway of Parts and Services and froze in place.

It wasn’t Mike he was looking at, nor was it Freddy Fazbear, who was standing off to one side while the night guard was facing an old laptop.

It was the fact that up on the bench, propped against the far wall and half slumped over was Bonnie the bunny. His vacant, dark optics stared off into space and his mouth hung partly open. His guitar was nowhere in sight, and his arms lay loose with his paws up. The big metal table in the middle was clear save for the computer Mike was using. Five cords of varying thickness and color ran into another laptop, and one of the cords was in a special outlet on the wall. Finally, Danny found his voice, and he turned to Mike for answers.

“What’s—what’s going on? What happened to Bonnie?” For a brief, dizzying instant Danny thought maybe this was Nightmare’s doing. But the rabbit wasn’t physically beat up or ragged looking. The smart-mouthed bunny looked like his normal self, minus the sound of his processors and his endoskeleton, or the way his suit crinkled when the old fur bent. Danny refused to look any longer at the still form of his best friend, and the teen gripped the door frame tightly.

“Bonnie’s...Bonnie’s having a little trouble rebooting, Danny. He had a request and when I finished everything, well. Bonnie didn’t come back online quite correctly.” Mike rubbed his face tiredly, and now his weariness made sense to the day guard.

“I had to reset him.” Mike said. “He should be okay…”

“A _request_? Wait, you’ve done maintenance on him before like this—he hates it but he’s never had a problem with it! When is he going to wake up?” Because Bonnie _had_ to wake up, didn’t he? There was no other solution Danny would let himself think about. Danny didn’t mean to raise his voice, but after finding out what he had about his father yesterday, this was hitting home hard. It couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Come here, Daniel.” Freddy said, and the day guard hesitated only a moment. Fazbear had _never_ sounded like that when he spoke to him. That tone was usually reserved for Mike and it was also laced with sympathy but a certain type of senior firmness.

“ _This_ is what Bonnie wanted me to get for you.” Mike said, and it was soft and quiet as he stood up and let Danny sit before the laptop. The kid almost fell out of his chair when he saw the paused image of his dad smiling up at him.

Danny sat through the video, leaning closer when he saw his dad but Mike and Freddy noticed the way he kept looking at the inactive Bonnie to his left.

“ _Remember, kiddo. I love you a whole heckuva lot, and I’ll see you after my shift.”_

The feed ended, went dark, and Danny hid his face in his hands.

“…Danny?” Mike broached gently, putting a hand on the kids’ shoulder.

“Why did he do it?” Came a muffled, slightly watery reply.

“Why did who…” Mike had a feeling he knew but asked anyway. He winced when the kid made an irritated, angry noise but knew it wasn’t necessarily aimed at him. If getting upset at Mike helped Danny, then at least the kid was bleeding a wound, right?

“ _Why did Bonnie do that?!_ He told me he didn’t even remember my dad, let alone was friends enough to make a video with him!” Danny cried out, gritting his teeth.

“Cause it woulda made you feel better, boy.” That was Freddy, his heavy accent filling the empty silence.

“Cause sometimes, it ain’t about us. We don’t need much, just electricity here, some new sheet music there. We’re programmed ta love all the kids that walk through those doors…but sometimes, once in a while, we love one kid just a tad harder than all the rest. Puppet’s done it, I’ve done it…” Freddy glance at Mike, who didn’t notice because he was still watching Danny.

“Now it may’a been foolish and risky, but Bon’s never been one to think things through. And the rabbit don’t know any other way of taking care a’someone except the whole darn kit and caboodle. You understand?”

Danny nodded after a moment.

“Good. …I don’ remember much a’yer father, son. I know I hunted ‘im an I know he got away from us, but I never got to apologize for turning on ‘im.”

“It wasn’t the robots, or even King who did it. It was Arthur’s hold on the restaurant.” Mike reminded softly.

Danny closed his eyes. “I, I remember that day now. Some of it. It was my party and I was having so much fun and I went to talk to Dad because I wanted to show Bonnie to my friends…” He fell silent, as if struggling with the memory.

“But I tripped. I tripped over…I don’t know, I think it was something yellow, and this hand went to grab me and then—I _remember_! It was a white fox who did it, it fell from the ceiling and lunged but I got pushed and then Dad was there and—and—“ The kid broke off and shivered heavily.

“…your dad saved you, Danny.” Mike said then sighed, realizing that Jeremy Fitzgerald was every bit the night guard Mike was. Maybe even more, because Jeremy certainly didn’t have Gold to save him. There was a moment of empty, heartbroken realization, and Mike paused when he realized it wasn’t quite as silent as it had been.

There was another set of fans going.

“My dad saved me…”

“Sure he did, kid. He said he’d always look out for you. You think that changes even though the guy’s dead and gone? That ain’t it works around here.” Said a new voice, as a computer whirred to life. Bonnie’s long, slack ears twitched upward as he started sitting up in slow, uneven jerks.

“Bonnie!” Danny was up and by the bunny’s side. He hesitated a moment, until childish desire beat out teenage awkwardness and he threw his arms around the animatronic.

“Hey, kid.” Bonnie hummed, optics clicking down to the teenager attached to him.

“You scared the crap out of me, you dumb bunny.” Danny accused, but it was weak.

“Scared the gum drops out of myself, too.” Bonnie rolled his head as if to test something. “Was like moving with 2% battery, my system wouldn’t wake up.”

“Yalright, Bon?” Freddy asked, watching the rabbit with worried eyes.

“Yeah. I mean, shook up but…something stopped me from shutting down all the way. It was like…well, it kind of reminded me of you, Mikey.” Bon admitted, patting Danny’s back absently as his red eyes rolled skyward thoughtfully. “I don’t think it was but it was…it was there. It didn’t let me Terminate.”

“Whoever it was, or _whatever_ , I’m just glad you’re back, Bonnie.” Mike smiled, and started to unplug the rabbit from the laptop and the wall.

“Me, me too, Bon.” Danny said, “And…thanks.”

“Please. All in a day’s work for Bonnie the Wonder-Bunny.” By now Bon was up on his flat feet and his ears were properly bent. He seemed entirely back online again, no worse for wear than he had been before Mike had gone digging in his system.

“But kid, I gotta ask. You got what you came here for…are you gunna stay? Or, or is this it?” Bonnie looked down at his kid, who blinked and stepped back.

“Oh. Well I, I guess I hadn’t thought what would happen if I did…I mean, I told mom I wanted to stay here. I guess some part of me still hoped I would find something on my own.” Turns out it was one of the very animatronics he feared that had come through for him in the end. The day guard looked at his feet, then looked at Mike quietly, questioningly.

“Well…I can’t promise you’ll have many hours for a while. And when exams come up, I’d really like you to focus on those, but…if I need a day guard on a busy Saturday to run into platters full of mac and cheese, you’ll be first on my call list.” He teased with a little grin. Danny flushed but looked relieved.

“Mom’ll be happy. I mean, she was okay with it but I think she’s scared I’ll…something will happen to me like it did to Dad.”

“Not as long as I’m around.” Mike answered, and all trace of humor was gone.

“Is that okay, Bonnie? I’m not, not leaving forever.” Danny said.

“Eh, I understand.” The purple rabbit nodded.

“Since this _is_ your last day for a bit kid, and we got nothing to do…wanna lose at Skee ball?” Bonnie asked with a wicked grin.

Danny snorted and shoved at the rabbit’s middle, for all the good it did.

“Race you!” Danny scooted past Freddy before he could be reminded about the ‘No Running’ rule, and headed for the Arcade room. Bonnie gave an affronted gasp.

“Oi, who do you think I am, Captain Kitty? I can’t run!” Bonnie jerked to life and limped after the kid, leaving Freddy and Mike in Parts and Services.

Fazbear groaned and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. Mike laughed, poked the bear with his elbow and then followed.

After the weeks they all endured, a game of Skee ball sounded like just the perfect amount of therapy. Freddy must have agreed, because he didn’t even protest when Mike dragged him into a game against the other two.

* * *

When Danny left at eleven, it was his mother who came to get him.

“Does she want to come in?” Mike offered as he waved to the woman outside in her car.

“Ah—no.” Danny tucked away the flash drive Mike had given him with Bonnie’s video feed. “I’m gunna show her this at home, I think. It took a lot for her to come in yesterday; I don’t think she’ll want to do it again.” Not to mention every animatronic was now…out and about.

“Ah.” Mike nodded, “I don’t really blame her, then. Tell her I said hi.”

“So…when are you gunna open?” Danny finally asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder

“Oh, in about a week. Kitchen’s about done and we need an inspection but that won’t be a problem. I just want to do one last sweep of electrical, make sure all Doors are…Closed, and then we’ll open at the start of December. Should be okay.”

“Yeah. I mean, I have no clue how to run a restaurant but, that sounds good.”

Mike laughed, and Danny relaxed a little.

“Anyway…thanks, Mike.” He turned to the four animatronics standing around them. “Thanks, to everyone for, well, everything.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Chica hummed.

“Keep the wind in yer sails.” Foxy growled, raising his hook.

“Don’t let the turkeys getcha down, son.” Freddy said.

Bonnie said nothing, but watched him evenly. Finally, he spoke, recalling an earlier conversation he and Danny had had. It was one only Nightmare Bonnie had been present for.

“Don’t you forget me again, bucko.” Bonnie warned, but it was friendly, and Danny’s smile widened. “I mean it. You better come back when we need you.”

“Of course he will, he’s a night guard!” Mike clapped the kid’s shoulder. Danny was glad for it, because his throat was suddenly tight. The air felt chilly, but Danny Fitzgerald pushed through the double doors and left Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

The sign, ‘ _Sorry, We’re Closed! But Tomorrow is Another Day’_ swung gently against the glass.

Danny paused as he threw his bookbag into the back seat, glancing over the door of his mom’s car. The restaurant’s neon sign buzzed gently.

The ‘S’ flickered once, like a friendly wink. 

“Bye, Dad.” Danny murmured, his face turned up to the building.

As the car disappeared down the long stretch of road, Shadow Bonnie watched it from where it stood by the doors.

Shadow Bonnie’s blackened, thick form faded away to reveal a tired, see-through man with dark hair and brown eyes. He wore an old Freddy’s uniform, and his name tag said ‘Jeremy Fitzgerald.’ Soon, the car’s red lights were far off dots in the purple black of the night and the man relaxed wearily. The world was old and dark for an instant, but Jeremy only smiled softly as he felt something in his chest finally loosen. His voice echoed, quieter than the leaves that skittered along the tarmac.  

_“Goodbye, kiddo…”_

When Jeremy Fitzgerald faded away, it was quietly and with little fanfare. He had, after all, no need to mimic the form of his son’s favorite animatronic now. Now, he could rest.

_“I’ll see you after my shift.”_

The moon’s heavy eye stared down from space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue is next, and then the trailer. Debating putting them together or separately, I’m not sure yet.


	20. We Will Put You Back Together (The End)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Start a New Game?

**Part III**

**  
Chapter 20. We Will Put You Back Together (The End)**

* * *

 

“Aye, ye be _terrible_ at this game! I said _left_ hand red, lad!”

“Look, some of us don’t have joints that can go every which way, Foxy! Ack!”

“Sis, move your beak before I lose an ear!”

“You move _your_ ear, Bonnie, hmph!”

“Alright now, alright, everybody stay calm.” Freddy said, shifting his arm so he wasn’t quite looming over the night guard. Said night guard looked over his shoulder with some effort and pouted.

“You’re only saying that because you’re winning.” Mike accused up at him, and Freddy chuckled. Well, he was winning, that was true.

“Now lee’see..give this a spin here…rabbit, right foot red.” Foxy instructed, watching them all with a critical gaze.

“Okay, but if I fall on Mike and snap him in half, I get his hat.” Bonnie said.

“Thank you, Bonnie.” Mike grunted, muffled now because Bonnie’s arm in his face.

But Bonnie did not in fact fall on Mike and snap him in half. The game ended, funnily enough, when Freddy’s paw slipped off green and because he had been holding every one up, well. They all tumbled to the side. And the robots, in an attempt to avoid Mike, all just sort of fell around him. He was sandwiched under Freddy’s girth but unharmed, and poked his head out by the bear’s torso.

“Oh, that just be sad.” Foxy shook his head, as if shamed.

“I didn’t see you doing it!” Bon groaned as he locked his arm in place and hefted himself up. He held out a paw to Chica.

“Me hook make it too hard.” Foxy reminded with a snide smirk.

“Well then how about snakes and ladders?” Mike stifled a yawn as he started to get up. A brown paw bigger than his head snagged him by his collar and lifted him to his feet easily. Mike just dusted off his uniform.

“Or Monopoly?” Chica suggested, peering into the box of games Mike had brought in.

“I am _not_ playing a business game with robots.” Mike shot down with a good humored jab. “When I was a kid, I used to have to play the Nintendo version against system. Never even saw a Railroad, let alone won.”

“Lame, Mikey.” Bonnie said. “Whassamatter, didn’t have any friends as a kid?”

“Nah, I was in the hospital too much.” Mike cheerfully started rolling up the Twister mat. When he noticed the silence he looked up, and all eyes were on him. He had been honest, but he hadn’t meant to make them all look so sympathetically at him like that. “What? Well, I had _friends_ at school, sure. But no one wanted to play with the heart disease kid. Not like, tag or hockey or anything.”

“Ya wanna play this hockey now, then?” Foxy was the one who asked, and Mike blinked and seemed to realize something.

“Hey, you know…I won’t get winded now, huh.” Mike stood there, holding the Twister mat and realizing he was not the strongest or the tallest—he never was—but compared to the animatronics? He was the _fastest_ , as a human.

“’Course not, son. Gold’s under yer skin.” Freddy rumbled.

“…then yes, yes I do.” Mike grinned, but then looked crestfallen. “Oh…I don’t have any hockey gear though.”

“That’s okay,” Bonnie said with a wave, “We can use Chica’s pancakes.”

“Hey!”

* * *

A game of hockey with the Fazgang was nothing at all like a normal game. But then, what _was_ normal with them around? Still, Mike wouldn’t have traded those hours for anything in the world.

They used the Dining Hall but closed the drapes, in case anyone was driving by. Rare on the pizzeria’s deserted road, but better safe than sorry. Mike and Freddy were captains, and choose teams. Mike picked Foxy, to no one’s surprise, and Freddy picked Bonnie, also to no one’s surprise. Mike picked BB, who turned out to be a better goalie than he inwardly expected, and Chica went to Freddy’s team. It was a small set of teams but it was something, and Mike’s realization was right. He was the quickest, even if he wasn’t the most graceful.

Around one, Freddy noticed Mike was getting tired and the game was called. They picked up, hauled the tables back into place and returned everything to the way it had been before game night. But moving around the restaurant was different than a game where speed and endurance was needed. Mike wasn’t the only tired one.

They put back their hockey sticks—brooms and mops—and their puck—a skee ball—and up righted their goals, which had been two tables.

“M’gunna be in the office if anyone needs me.” Mike said as he stretched. He picked up the hot chocolate given to him by Chica and thanked her.

“Okay, Mikey.” That was Chica, making her way to the main stage. Bonnie was already up there and was settling into his deactivated pose. Foxy followed Mike and Freddy as far as his Cove and then vanished between the purple starry curtains.

“We haven’t had a game night in forever, Freddy.” Mike said as he entered his office and set the Styrofoam cup down.

“Nope, we hadn’t.” Freddy agreed, watching Mike sit on the cot crammed into the back of his office. He had the tablet in his lap but it wasn’t on. Freddy’s gaze softened.

“Get some sleep, son. Think we’re all gunna do the same.” Hockey, Freddy decided, was fun but exhausting. Even his battery was on its last dregs and his systems were warning him to get back on the stage.

“Mmhmm…”

Mike had long since checked out, leaning uncomfortably on the wall of his office. Freddy shook his head fondly, guided the night guard to actually lie down on the cot, and let him be.

The restaurant slept.

Around 3am— _the witching hour_ —Mike rolled over drowsily and forced his eyes open. He didn’t know why, because he still felt tried. It was a good, healthy tired, but he wondered what had kicked his brain awake this time. The doors were up, he could vaguely hear Foxy’s hum-de-humming but there was no clatter from the kitchen. There wasn’t any flat footfalls outside his door or Freddy’s carnival music going on either. Oh, and his desk was empty.

His desk was empty.

The Present box was gone.

Well, that got him up.

“Bonnie?” He called, thinking this was a poor prank. But he received no answer, which wasn’t like the bunny at all. Mike’s hand found the tablet and he clumsily flipped through the Cameras. No, everyone was on their stage. Even Foxy’s curtain was closed.

“Hi.”

Mike jumped and looked down at the newly opened space under his desk. It seemed so much bigger without Nightmare Foxy.

“BB?” The night guard gave him a questioning look, especially when the balloon bot swiveled his round head toward the Left Hall door and pointed. Mike looked out, but saw nothing.

“Do you know where the Puppet’s box is?”

“Hello.” BalloonBoy led him to the back door; Mike making sure to tiptoe by Foxy’s closed off Cove.

“Out—It’s out there? Why?” No one had put it in the dumpster, had they? For a brief instinct Mike’s hurt and fear overrode any sense of self preservation.

He unlocked the door and headed outside, leaving BB behind.

The moon wasn’t looking so full anymore, but it gave a little bit of light to see by. Mike looked all around the back parking lot, but there wasn’t a sign of any disturbance. No one had been here lately; the tarmac was under a thin blanket of leaves. They crackled pitifully to one another under his sneakers as he let himself wander a bit further.

Mike realized suddenly how cold it was, and that he had forgotten his jacket. He hadn’t forgotten the flashlight though, and he pulled it from his belt and jabbed the switch. The light flickered before the beam grew stronger. It showed the dark forest, reflected the stars up above but that was it.

Then Mike swept the beam of gold light over the spot he had buried the puppet.

The earth had sunken a little, but was not disturbed. Above it floated a long black shape, all thin and sharp. The Marionette appeared only in the path of the faithful little flashlight, and its limbs hung lazily as it turned toward the stunned night guard.

“Was is a dream?” Mike dared to whisper, “Mari—was it _real_? You’re back!”

_“I cannot stay.”_ The Marionette looked to its left. Mike could just now see, if he squinted, the faint outline of a very small figure that had followed him out. It was Arthur, who died too early but didn’t quite die enough, it seemed.

Just a little boy. Who was long overdue for his bedtime.

“But—“

_“Night Guard.”_

Mike’s teeth clicked, his mouth shut that fast. “I…I don’t want you to go.” He managed, feeling useless. The Marionette must have heard or sensed the pain in the man’s voice, for its tone softened considerably. It touched the human’s shoulder, in a rare display of compassion and said sympathetically,

_“How terrible it is. To love something that Death can touch.”_ The Puppet considered its next words. _“I am grateful to go, though. To be considered Alive enough that I may Die. And…to be honest?_

_I could not bear to die after you, Michael.”_ The Marionette’s hand slipped from Mike’s shoulder, and he nodded weakly. The Puppet had given so much; Mike could let it have this. He had to, anyway.

There were somethings that being the Suit of Gold just _couldn’t_ fix.

_“Did you enjoy playing games with them tonight?”_ The Puppet asked suddenly, seemingly off topic.

“I did.” Mike said, then added, “It would have been more fun with you, Mari.”

_“I doubt that. I am usually a stick in the mud.”_ Marion hummed, but Mike remembered something.

“Such a sick in the mud that you played _Pokemon_ for Arthur for months?”

_“That was different.”_ The Puppet sniffed.

“Uh-huh.” Mike smiled, though.

There was a little soft orb fluttering closer. It brightened when Mike reached for it, finally solidifying into the vacantly see-through, cellophane like figure of a small boy. He smiled wordlessly up at Mike, and the night guard smiled back and took a knee to better be at Arthur’s level.

“You take care of Mari, okay Artie? He’s gunna need a light. You know his optics aren’t what they used to be.”

Arthur smiled sadly, knowingly, and flung his tiny chilly body into the man’s arms for a brief, cold hug. Mike hugged back after a second, before letting the kid go and standing up as the child appeared to vanish. The Marionette was watching them.

“Are _you_ gonna be okay?” He asked in concern.

_“Oh. I do think we’ll be quite fine.”_ The Puppet turned to look up at the stars. “ _We have made it this far after all. To ask Arthur to move on by himself would be impossible of me. I am, after all—“_

“A very good Marionette.” Mike finished, and when Mari tilted down to look at him, their smiles reflected at one another. “Yeah. You are. I could never have asked for a better friend, buddy. But…what if, what if I need you?”

_“You have Gold, my dear night Guard. You have the original four. And you have yourself. That alone is something far more powerful than anything I can give to you.”_

“Me? I’m not—“ a look silenced him.

“Okay. I understand.” Mike stopped speaking for a second, waiting for his throat to loosen. It didn’t.

It took a moment, but the Marionette began to fade.

“I’ve never…really been that good with goodbyes.” Mike said quietly, afraid that if he raises his voice any higher, it will break. And the puppet will try to stay.

The Marionette, who once housed the soul of the boy could never grow up, turns its painted face down from the stars and gazed at Mike. The twinkling lights behind its mask were as bright as ever, and finally the painted smile seems to be only dried acrylic on porcelain. Nothing more. Whatever strange, revengeful magic that kept it moving without its strings was beginning to loosen its hold on the Marionette.

Arthur _was_ moving on.

_“Alas. I am fear I am the same, my dear Night Guard.”_ The Marionette admitted then commented lightly _. “I have however, always liked ‘So long.”_

“Well, then.” Mike swallowed, blinking to clear his fuzzy vision. “So long, buddy.”

_“So long, Michael. Oh, and **do** keep that flashlight handy. It is an old light, and it flickers…but it is enough to see by.” _  

“Alright,” Mike smiles, his eyes watery and voice rough as he watches his best friend leave again. “I will.”

_“Good night…_ _or, would that be…good morning?”_  

Like twin dying stars, the bright little orbs that are the Marionette’s eyes flicker and fade out, leaving nothing but a cool wind and the night sky high above Mike. And Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, where fun and fantasy had come to life, sits under the inky space of oblivion.

Mike looked down and spotted the Present Box, sitting proud with its shiny fluttering bow in the wind. Well, it made no sense to just _leave_ it out there…

Mike lifted it, pausing when something small but weighted slid around within. He hesitated, then lifted the lid and peered into the box.

His GameBoy, intact and gleaming, stared back up at him. It was on, and it had gone through the entire Start Up Scene and was asking if Mike wanted to Load the Game…or start a new one.

“…thanks for the adventure, Mari.” Mike smiled as he lifted the handheld gently.

The night guard turned and headed back into his restaurant.

And so the Marionette and the Crying Child leave exactly the same way they came into Michael Schmidt’s life; quickly and abruptly with very little time to exchange pleasantries. Despite this, Mike knew that would miss them every day for the rest of his life. It was quietly and swiftly, that one soul extinguishes and another creature altogether goes along with it.

For what, after all, is a child without its nightlight?

* * *

Finding the burnt building of Fredbear’s Diner is a journey left only to those seeking a glimpse at the past. The golden age of Diners is remembered fondly by a precious few, but the place itself has long since been wiped off the map. The diner is traceable only by a very old relative, who knew a cousin of a friend that might have gone their once, before the restaurant closed. Before the tragedy happened.

It is the restaurant lost to time.

If you are a fortunate person, you can find Fazbear’s Fright on a gray afternoon, whose foundations still sits, blackened, ashen and defiant as ever to the rest of the world. It has been declared unsafe, and is quite abandoned. This is probably for the best, because the noises that can be heard from the basement during the night would send any person fleeing in terror.

It is the restaurant that never was.

If you return from that trip, and are still the same fortunate person you were when you left, you may find the revamped Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria; its doors still, stubbornly open for those children seeking a little fun and fantasy, and weary parents needing a moment’s rest. Have no fear, the animatronics are quite accommodating, and Management carries a flashlight that never falters. The faithful light is only reflected by the gold you can sometimes see in the young man’s friendly gaze. Even at night, the building’s windows glow from the inside.

 It is the restaurant that never sleeps.

But no matter how fortunate you are, you will not be able to fine a slender black puppet with a white painted face. Who lived in a present box and once saved two young souls from death, some twenty years apart.

The puppet and its child are somewhere deep in that black, cold star space where the song finishes, the rainbow ends, and the horizons meet.

It is very likely that the Crying Child and the Marionette have finally gone off to bed, for their adventure is over and they had long since stayed up far past their bedtime. But for those of you whose adventure is only beginning, they leave some words behind. Words for you to hold on to even in your darkest of hours, no matter what is chasing you, no matter how terrible the monsters in your closest seem, or how alone you think you are.

For all of you who are afraid of something, they offer you this:  

_Remember to smile, and keep a light by your side._

* * *

_“What kind of world do you want?  
Think Anything,  
Let's start at the start,  
Build a masterpiece.  
Be careful what you wish for,  
History starts now...”   
–‘_ World _’ Five For Fighting_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is incredibly bitter-sweet, to think of this entire 3 part series end. Guess maybe that’s how you know you liked working on it, if you’re sad and happy at the same time to be finished with it? Well, either way, Sister Location is soon. But for now, Mike and the others are taking a much needed break. And so am I. So good night, sleep tight,
> 
> …and there’s probably something in your closet.   
> -VanillaSpiders


	21. The Beginning

**XI. The Beginning**

_Ring! Ring!_

Click.

_“Uh, hello? Well, if you’re hearing this…chances are you’ve just made a very poor career choice…kidding! It’s a joke. I do that. Just ask Fred—well, ok don’t ask him, since they really aren’t speaking right now…or. Active at all.”_ A tired sigh.

_“Listen, there’s something bad going on. This message is only as a last resort. Heh, looks like I finally found my curtain call, huh?”_

* * *

 Glass shattered, and plastic squeaked in feeble protest just as a body darted under a table. He was trying to hide, for all the good it did.

The music was getting closer.

* * *

  _“I’ve been working around the clock to get my latest project up. But I can’t keep these things off my tail any longer. The key’s in my locker, my locker is under my desk, and you need to get some back up before you go any farther._

_And for fuck’s sake, I hope you know what you’re getting into.”_

* * *

 Metal came down horrifically close to his ankle, but he pulled it out just in time to hear the banging start down at the end of the crawlspace.

It was getting louder.

* * *

_“ I can’t believe how long I’ve been doing this now. 10 years, sheesh. Where has my life gone?”_

* * *

 “W-what are you?!”

 “What _was_ I is a more appropriate question. How odd. Do you know what this means?”

“No, what?”

“It means Mr. Schmidt _lost_.”

* * *

_“Imagine having to hold onto a secret that big for **so** long…and not having anyone listen?”_

* * *

“Take a look around.” A ragged clawed hand gestured, and they both turned to look across the dark room where the ballerina posed, frozen.

“Now, you tell me, Fitzgerald. Who is more welcome here…The living? Or the dead?”

* * *

A scuffle of noise, and dull banging that grew rapidly. _“Listen, I gotta go. Just, just follow my directions, and everything will be fine. Find Freddy and the others, that very important! They’ll know what to do, they can stop her from—ah, shit—“_

The line went dead.

* * *

“ _You don’t know what we’ve been through.”_

**_The Knight Guard Part 4  
The Circus Opens February_ **


End file.
